


I Went Searching For Wings

by Fledhyris



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst and Humor, Dragons, Fairy Tale Style, M/M, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 27,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27745312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fledhyris/pseuds/Fledhyris
Summary: Jared, a young American prince, journeys overseas in search of his soulmate: but in a land veiled in mystery and tragic secrets, will he recognise his true love when he finds them?
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Comments: 60
Kudos: 293
Collections: 2020 Supernatural Reversebang Challenge





	1. The Young Prince

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever RPF! The prompt just screamed ‘dragon!Jensen’ and I love fairytales, so I decided to take the plunge. I intended it to be (relatively) short and sweet, but I should know my muse by now, especially when dragons are involved… So I’m sorry but it’s another long one, bringing in my third Reverse Bang where the story just grabbed the bit between its teeth and took off! (Apparently me + fantasy art = novella.) I have tried to keep it to bite-sized chapters of between 1000-2000 words for ease of reading, and I know many people prefer to download a long fic to enjoy at their leisure; but if you do, please consider coming back to leave kudos, so that I can know whether or not this foray from my usual canon-adjacent writing was a success!
> 
> Thank you to [DWImpala67](https://dwimpala21.livejournal.com/7949.html) for the beautiful, evocative art which so inspired me. She has done several pieces for this story, but I couldn’t showcase everything here, so please visit her site to admire and leave feedback! Also thanks to moth2fic for her up-to-the-line beta work, shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod for a character read-through and helpful suggestions, and to all my friends for their encouragement and continued faith in my abilities as a writer. This wouldn’t exist without any of you and I hope that’s a good thing!

Once upon a time, there was a handsome young prince named Jared who lived in a beautiful white castle by the sea, in the westernmost reaches of the world. He was the youngest of four sons, and so he didn’t have much to do besides attending lots of publicity events, because he was the darling of the populace. He was tall and athletic, with tanned skin, a brilliant white smile, and waves of chestnut hair that everyone yearned for a glimpse of, but he kept it hidden from sight under his trademarked line of royal beanies. He was the favourite of his parents and his three brothers, too, and he could have been horribly spoiled; but what everyone loved about him most was his perpetually humble and sunny disposition. Jared was a prince of the people; he lived to please.

Jared’s older brothers were Michael, heir to the throne, very serious and a bit of a stickler for duty; Gabriel, who by contrast was a total hedonist, a ladies’ man and inveterate gambler; and Raphael who was a commander in the military. He was serving overseas to help keep the peace in the turbulent desert countries of the far east, so they didn’t see a lot of him. Jared’s official name, in keeping with the others’, was Jadriel; but he hated it, and who could blame him? So he went by Jared, and it served him very well. 

Their parents were King Mark and Queen Ruth, who was a flame haired beauty from the Old Country, and suspected by many of dabbling in witchcraft; but of course only the white magicks of blessing and healing. A queen would never stoop to the practice of the dark arts; she had no need after all, she had everything she wanted. In public, the two were dignified and stately; in private, they had a bit of a tendency to squabble, but they had been married for a long time so it was only to be expected. All of them doted on Jared and coddled him, as much as he would let them.

Besides his many appearances as the promotional face of the royal family, Jared worked out a lot to keep fit; he loved to go running along the golden beaches with his retrievers, Jack and Jess; and he was surprisingly studious and well read. Everything seemed set for him to prosper, but for one thing: his family despaired of him ever finding a good match. As fourth in line to the throne, he didn’t really need to produce heirs, but still they wanted to see him settled and happy. They held balls and regattas and races and concerts in an effort to introduce him to all the eligible young noblewomen from far and wide, and all the glamorous celebrities and rich young politicians’ daughters. 

Jared was unfailingly charming and polite to them all, but remained steadfastly disinterested. He could see that, objectively, they were all very beautiful, and he liked several of them well enough to become fast friends; but somehow, his feelings just didn’t seem to lie that way. 

“When I marry,” he told his frustrated parents, “it will be to the one person in the world who is meant for me and me alone. I have to find my true soulmate.”

And with that they had to be content, for while he was a loving and dutiful son, Jared had a streak of obstinacy within him like a vein of obsidian, and once he had his mind set on something, there was no moving him. Not that it stopped them from trying, because like all families, they thought they had his best interests at heart. Although exactly what those interests were, differed slightly from one family member to another.

“Son,” rumbled his father, scratching his short, dark beard in perplexity, “when are you going to shift to make something of your life and move out of the castle? Of course we love having you here, but you’re a twenty-year-old living with his parents and it just doesn’t set a good example.”

“Och Jared, my wee moose,” his mother sighed in her quaint accent (which was actually put on a little to give herself airs, but nobody minded, as it was thrillingly exotic) “you know I only wish to see you happy, just as I am with your poor dear father. There has to be someone out there for you, if you’d only try and look a little harder! I just can’t bear the thought of you being lonely.”

“I know you’re last in line,” Michael exhorted him, sternly folding his arms, “but anything could happen, and it’s the duty of all royal successors to bear heirs to continue the family name. Look, we all know Gabe’s never going to settle down with a reputable partner, and Rafe - well, you never know what could happen to him out there, so after me that just leaves you. You have a responsibility to your country, as well as to your family.”

“Jare!” Gabriel gestured expansively, not quite sloshing the whiskey from the crystal tumbler in his hand. His cravat dangled loose over his open shirt, his voice was indistinct around the lollipop in his mouth (Jared suspected it had been dipped in something a lot stronger than the whiskey), and a pretty young socialite giggled and purred on his arm. “What’s the point in saving yourself for a mythical soulmate, when there are so many lovely ladies - and gentlemen,” he winked lasciviously, “lining up to offer whatever your heart desires? Live a little! You’re only young once, you know. Come on, and I’ll introduce you to some of my favourites.”

Even Raphael joined the entreaties, asking every time he got in touch over Zoom whether his little brother had found that special someone yet, to help ‘keep you out of trouble’. What trouble Rafe was alluding to, Jared was never sure. He simply smiled and nodded and set his teeth to all their well intentioned prodding, and stuck to his purpose.

He knew he would find his soulmate; he could feel it like a flame within his heart, a bright certainty that made all the searching and the worrying irrelevant.


	2. The Dragon Prince

Meanwhile, across the ocean to the north and east, a second prince was living in another castle, in one of the many small kingdoms of the Old Country. This castle, and kingdom, were about as different from Jared’s as chalk and cheese. 

Where one land was all wide, gleaming beaches and soft, rolling hills swathed in orchards and vineyards and meadows of fat dairy cattle, this one was all craggy, forested mountains and hidden lakes nestled like jewels along the snaking necklaces of lush, green valleys. 

The castle itself perched high on a cliff and it was built all of wood, intricately and curiously carved so that not an inch of its surface was bare of decoration. The people of this region made their livelihoods from sheep and timber and mining silver. It was a country of ups and downs, of sorcery and secrets, yet somehow - despite the stories and rumours which swarmed like bees - it managed to keep to itself and stayed largely out of the international news.

The prince who lived in this country was called Jensen, and he was the heir to the Dragon Throne. His people were a race of shapeshifters, stretching back in a long line far, far into the mists of forgotten history. Jensen, like his father and sister and grandfather and many others in his bloodline, could change his shape at will, turning into a great, scaled, winged, horned, fanged, clawed, fire breathing dragon.

At least, that was the theory. In practice, Jensen had been a dragon for so long, it seemed he was stuck, and people were starting to forget what he looked like as a human. Shapeshifters were supposed to, well, _shift_ ; and having a crown prince who couldn’t was a bit of an embarrassment. Even if he was rather magnificent in his dragon form, it was no way to rule a country.

Right now, at this particular moment of the story, Jensen was hiding under his bed while his sister, Alona, tried to coax him out with a biscuit.

Eventually she gave up and straightened, folding her arms and tossing her long, flaxen hair in annoyance. “You might consider me, Jenny,” she scolded, using the pet-name they had shared since she was a toddler. Not a single other person would have gotten away with it.

“This is my coming-out ball,” she went on, tapping a daintily slippered foot on the carpet, “and everyone who is anyone will be there. I’ll be making a spectacular entrance from the balcony down the grand staircase, and I _ought_ to have my older brother and the crown prince on my arm as escort. But if you won’t change, I’ll have to make do with our cousin Chad, and you know what he’s like. How can you do this to me?!” And she stamped her foot and scrunched her pretty face up in a scowl.

The scaly form squashed up beneath the bed made a soft snorting sound and curled up tighter, retreating as far as it could from the ire of entitled princesses. He knew that she would grow bored soon and go away; she was quick tempered and flighty, and although he loved her dearly, and would do almost anything for her, what she wanted this time was out of the question.

“Jensen,” Alona went on, a warning tone creeping into her voice, “if you won’t do this one tiny little thing for me, then you’re not my favourite brother anymore.”

_“You don’t have any other brothers,”_ Jensen mindspoke softly. _“So technically, I am still your favourite, even if you don’t like me very much at the moment.”_

Alona gave a very un-princess-like scream of annoyance and threw her hands in the air. “I cannot believe you!” she cried. “Nit-picking at a time like this! Jensen, if you won’t do your royal duty and accompany your little sister to her DEBUT then there is no hope. I wash my hands of you. There, I hope you’re happy.”

She threw the biscuit onto the carpet dramatically, turned on her heel and flounced from the room.

_“I could carry you on my back down from the High Tower?”_ Jensen sent after her, walls being no obstruction to telepathy.

_“I’m not speaking to you,”_ she sent back with a distinct note of finality. _“And if you don’t change your mind, and you leave me to be embarrassed by Chad, I won’t speak to you for a month!”_

_“Does that include mindspeak?”_ Jensen asked, genuinely curious.

_“You are the worst!”_ she threw back at him, lobbing the thought deliberately with all the force of a cricket ball to make him wince. Then her mental barriers slammed down and she was truly gone.

Jensen waited a few more minutes, just to be sure she wasn’t going to come storming back with a fresh volley of indignation, then he crept out from under his bed, squeezing himself flat to pass under the heavy, carved wooden frame. There were decided advantages to dragon-form, not least of which was the extra agility which helped him get into all sorts of tight spaces, despite his size.

He scooped up the biscuit in passing with his long, forked tongue and crunched it absently as he considered his situation. He felt for Alona, he really did. He understood how important this was to her, and her expectations weren’t unreasonable. He was her brother, and he was the crown prince, and being led out before the crowd by Chad would be a letdown for anybody, especially if he’d started drinking already and managed to tip his glass over her dress.

He hated to let his little sister down, and he hated himself for it, but it just couldn’t be helped. She was asking the impossible. To shift and show himself as human, in front of all the most important people in the kingdom besides? A long shudder wriggled along his body from nose to tail tip, rattling his spines. No, he simply couldn’t do it.

Ah, well. She would forgive him eventually; as he had so astutely reminded her, he was her only brother, and they had been best friends since the nursery. Maybe he should go and talk to Chad though; making sure he behaved with the appropriate dignity on the day would go a long way to winning himself back into his sister’s good graces.


	3. The Queen's Spell

“Mirror, mirror on the wall; who is the fairest of them all? - Och no, I’m just messin’ with you,” the queen giggled and slapped her hand gently against the full length mirror in its ornate golden frame. She turned, swivelling her hips to admire the clinging curves of her rose coloured gown, and made a coquettish moue towards her own reflection. “I don’t need to ask,” she said gaily, “I’ve still got it, even after four strapping boys! Right, now enough of this tomfoolery; I’ve important work to be doing!”

She patted the mirror and turned away, with one last, pleased glance over her shoulder. Then she went to draw the heavy, ivory velvet curtains to shut out the fading evening and shroud the bedchamber in shadow. The only light came from tall branched sconces glowing softly upon the walls, electric of course but cunningly designed to mimic real candle flames. Humming a little tune to herself, she cleared the surface of her dressing table of brushes and toiletries, got out her tools of divination and arranged them in a precise circle before the mirror.

“Candles, check.” She listed her apparatus softly to herself, ticking them off on slender fingers with one blood red, wickedly sharp nail. “Scrying bowl, check.” The chased silver dish took pride of place in the exact centre of the arrangement, on top of the altar cloth she had chosen for the occasion: a square of watered silk as vibrant as her nails. “Herbs and crystal and water jug and athame, all go! Oh wait a moment; matches! Silly me.” She rummaged in a drawer and retrieved a little matchbook from one of the clubs Gabriel frequented. It was black, with the silhouette of a bunny girl on it, and she gave it a mother’s fond, exasperated smile before lighting the first candle and turning off the electric lights.

Now, she continued to light the circle of candles in a clockwise direction, chanting softly under her breath. She poured water from the crystal decanter into the silver bowl; not just any water, it had been taken from a natural spring under moonlight and kept covered from the light for seven days. Then she lit the bundle of herbs from one of the candles, and began waving it slowly over the bowl. As the fragrant smoke coiled into the air before her, she changed the pace of her chanting. It grew deeper, older, wilder; words of power from the long lost days of her people. As she chanted and passed the burning herbs to and fro over the surface of the water, the smoke began to twist together into a tight funnel like the tail of a tornado, and slid downwards into the water like a snake.

Soon, the clear water had become clouded and opaque with smoke, a pearly whiteness that seemed to glow faintly from within. Setting aside the herbs to continue burning in a little metal holder, she picked up the athame, the ritual dagger. With it, she pricked one finger tip with a swift, practised motion and squeezed three drops of bright red blood into the bowl. Then she stirred the water with the tip of the dagger three times, widdershins. The blood swirled and spread within the smoke until the water gleamed pink as the inside of a seashell. She set the dagger down, breathed deeply, and leaned over the bowl, tucking her long hair out of the way.

“Oh mirror, mirror of the goddess’ sight,” she intoned, this time in English, “grant me an oracle this night. Show my son’s true love to me, that I know the way of his heart be free. As my blood to his be bound, let the spirits gather round; seek ye, all the corners of the earth, and find the one whom he will love.”

The water in the bowl steamed and bubbled, and the pink smoke swirled around like cotton candy being freshly spun. But instead of clearing, as she had expected, and showing her an image of whomever her Jadriel was destined to marry, the liquid continued to seethe and race until steam rose off it in dense clouds and she could barely even see the scrying dish. The bowl itself started to shake and rattle against the top of the dresser, and she began to worry that the extreme heat would damage it.

“Enough!” she cried, and plunged the dagger into the bowl with a word of power. The contents sizzled furiously and subsided, the pink smoke writhed up around the blade and dissipated into the air with a faint hissing sound, and she was left staring at her own reflection in a bowl of plain water. Or not quite plain. There was something left behind, in the bottom. Carefully, she fished it out with the tip of the knife.

It looked like a tiny leaf, or a rose petal, or a fishscale, reddish bronze as though made of beaten copper.

“Hmm,” she murmured as she turned it this way and that to catch the light, “how curious. Well, my wee moose, I don’t know exactly what your future has in store for you, but this much is certain: ‘tis no ordinary lover you have bound to your heart!”

Carefully, she put the scale into a little jewellery box, dumping out its former contents onto the cloth. Then she blew out the candles, cleaned up and reset the surface of her dresser so that nobody would ever guess it had just been the site of a witch’s altar. Finally, she straightened and smiled at herself in the dressing table mirror.

Her spell had not gone to plan, but she wasn’t unhappy about it, quite the contrary. There was some mysterious, greater power at work here, obscuring her efforts, but it had left behind a clue; and she had a feeling she knew what it meant. She was a little out of touch with affairs across the sea since she had moved here to marry her king, but she kept up with all the news of royal marriages and births, and she knew that King Jeffrey had a daughter nearing marriageable age. 

Yes, the Princess Alona would make a very suitable match for her youngest son! Now, she would just have to nudge things along, so that he made shift to meet her, and everything would be resolved by fate. Pleased with her evening’s accomplishment, she sought out her favourite jewels to dress for dinner. She would have the scale set into crystal and placed within a locket, so that Jared could carry it with him as a talisman when he set out on his journey.


	4. The Prince Departs

Jared stood awkwardly as his mother fussed with minor details of his outfit, as though he were a child. He wasn’t used to staying still, he was always so active and expressive, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. Eventually impatience outweighed filial devotion and he brushed her off, taking a step backwards.

“Mother, stop,” he said with amused tolerance. “It’s fine, it’s only my travelling clothes anyway! I’ll change when I get to court.”

“Och I’m sorry,” the queen replied, clutching her hands to her breast and staring up at him with her head cocked to one side and a fond smile on her lips. She was tiny beside him, and this close, had to crane her neck to peer up at his face, so that she was peeking from under her eyelashes.

“It’s just that you’re going so far away, leaving home for the first time, and a mother always worries. I’ll miss you, you big lummox!” And she reached up and pinched his cheek affectionately.

Jared laughed. “It’s only for the party, I’ll probably be home again within a week. Not like I’m going to move into the Dragon Court or anything.”

“Aye, well, that’s as may be,” his mother answered sagely. “But you’ll be having such a grand time over there, seeing the sights, meeting new friends, all the feasts and dancing; time will fly by and you’ll forget your poor old mother, pining away here for the loss of her favourite son!”

Jared stared and then burst into laughter. “Mother, you are a rogue,” he chuckled. “It was your idea for me to attend the party, remember? What was it you said?” He coughed and struck a pose, mimicking her voice in a surprisingly accurate falsetto. “Jared, my lad, it’s time for you to spread your wings a little. You’re the people’s darling here at home, but a prince needs an international reputation. Back where I come from, they’ve never even heard of you, and that just will not do. The neighbouring kingdom to my homeland is holding a lavish ball, and I’ve managed to secure you an invitation. You go and do what you do, be seen and admired and get to know them all. They’ll be flocking to your feet like peacocks at feeding time, ma bonnie wee boy!”

He stopped and grinned, then added in his normal tone, “There, did I get it right?”

Queen Ruth slapped his chest playfully. “Oh, I’m the rogue, am I now?” she laughed. “Get away with you, clever clogs! You always did have a good memory for whatever people were saying. Your father says if you weren’t a prince, you should have been an actor. Well all right then, so I will miss you, it’s true; but I’m a proud mama to be sure, and it’s about time we Connells reminded everybody in the Old Country what we’re made of.”

She stepped up to hug him fiercely, rising up on her tiptoes, then paused for a moment as though she had something in her eye. “Och, I nearly forgot!” she exclaimed suddenly, diving into the little jewelled purse she carried. “Here, I had this made for you.”

She handed him a golden locket, engraved with his father’s badge: a thickset, shaggy hound _sejant_ (on its haunches) and howling before a rising full moon, with the Latin motto _‘ululantes in luna’._ The outline of the moon had been inlaid with silver and the hound’s eyes were tiny chips of ruby. Jared opened the locket to see, instead of the customary picture, what looked like a small bronze leaf, encased in crystal resin and set into the back of the case.

“What is it?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over the smooth, cool curve of the inset.

“Och, it’s just a wee talisman,” his mother answered airily. “A good luck charm, to help you keep your bearings on your travels. Will you put it on, then?”

Jared narrowed his eyes at her but smiled, and hung the locket about his neck. He knew the rumours surrounding his mother, and although she was pretending to be casual, he suspected there was more to her gift than met the eye. If she said it was lucky, it quite probably was, and it would be sensible for him to wear the thing for the duration of his trip.

“Thanks, ma,” he said and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

After that, it was time for him to say his farewells to everyone at court, including his father the king, who had just a few gruff words of encouragement for him. “Go get ‘em, tiger! You’ll slay them at court. Those dragons won’t know what’s hit them. Do the hounds proud, son.” Jared wondered fleetingly whether his father thought he was attending a royal ball, or a football match.

The hardest goodbyes of all were to his dogs, who wouldn’t understand why he was leaving them behind. He knew they would fret for him in his absence, and he would miss them too. His daily walks with them along the beach with nobody around except a discreet security guard were some of his favourite moments, times when he could relax and entertain his own thoughts without worrying about the image he was presenting. He wasn’t sure if he would manage anything like that where he was going.

Finally he stepped aboard his royal jet while waving to the crowds who had gathered to see him off and posing for the photographers. He could imagine the headlines already: Youngest Royal Stretches His Wings, Prince Jared Flees The Nest At Last, Fourth Heir Presents America’s Greetings to the Old Country, Will Nation’s Favourite Prince Find His Bride Across The Sea? All sorts of speculation and gossip surrounded his trip, even before he had stepped out of the limousine onto the runway tarmac.

As for himself… Why was Jared making this journey? Not just to please his mother, though that was part of it. He was looking forward to doing something a little different, to seeing another country and meeting new people and getting out for a while from under his family’s nurturing, but somewhat stifling wings. 

He was well aware of the queen’s expectations, but dismissed them fondly. If he did meet the love of his life on this trip then so much the better, but he wasn’t staking his hopes on it and certainly not pinning them all on this young princess who was to be making her debut. He knew deep in his bones that his soul mate was out there for him, somewhere, and he was certain that he would find them sooner or later. No point fretting about it and speculating over every eligible young person he was likely to meet; he would leave all that anxiety to his mother. What was to be, would be.


	5. Tragic Revelations

Jared had a good few hours ahead of him. It would take all night to fly across the Atlantic between the two kingdoms; so after the excitement of takeoff (that sudden, swooping feeling as they lifted into the air never got old, no matter how many times he travelled) he settled in with his tablet to do some research. He knew the basics of course, names and geography and politics, but he liked to know where he was going and what he was getting into. And above all, he was fascinated by the legends. 

Although there was little concrete evidence in terms of photographic sightings or anything similar, rumour and history both affirmed that the royal family of the Dragon Kingdom were in fact what they were in name: dragons, a magical race of beings, either men (and women) who could transform at will into the winged, fire breathing beasts of myth and fable, or creatures able to disguise themselves as human. The difference was moot, shrouded in the mists of time and story. They kept the bloodline from stagnating by marrying normal humans, so by this point, if they had ever been a different species, the intermingling of blood must stand as evidence that they were human enough where it counted.

The Dragon Kingdom, Jared learned, was very good at keeping its secrets. Stories abounded, but the only reputable information he could find on the current family hinged about their normal, human lives. King Jeffrey was the reigning monarch, with two children. 

The crown prince, Jensen, was only a few years older than Jared. Strangely, there were no images of him beyond his childhood, a sweet blond child with large, expressive eyes who favoured his mother, Queen Mary. Jensen, it seemed, was quite the recluse, and it fell to the press to make up for his lack in stories about his pretty and wilful sister, Alona. She was due to turn eighteen, and her formal presentation was the reason for the party to which Jared had been invited - he, and doubtless many other eligible young bachelors of good standing. Jared had no doubt that, if he were interested, he would have a challenge on his hands: the princess was also blonde, very pretty and (according to gossip) very independent. There was some suggestion in the more speculative of the tabloids that, with the mysterious heir unlikely or even unwilling to find himself a bride, the hopes of the royal line were veering towards Alona. Jared snorted softly to himself, well able to sympathise with the thought of the pressure that must put on her young shoulders.

Throughout everything he read, Jared was starting to pick up a common thread, elusive, never directly stated, but the implications hung in the lack of references. As hidden as he was from the people’s sight, even the mysterious prince won regular, if brief mentions in the press; but of his mother there was nothing. It was as though she simply did not exist, as though King Jeffrey and his two children were the only royals in the kingdom, yet photographs of her did exist - from the past, when the prince was a child and his sister merely a baby in a long, lacy shawl. Evidently, something had happened to remove the queen from the picture even more completely than her evasive offspring.

Then Jared, doing a bit of determined digging, finally came across the tragic circumstances behind the dearth of news. It was in an old newspaper clipping that had been uploaded to the archives of some historical society. Eighteen years ago, long before social media took the internet by storm, and just after the birth of her new baby girl, the young queen had suffered a terrible accident and died.

It seemed she had been taking a pleasure drive out in the countryside with her son, nobody with them but their driver and a bodyguard. The car had hit something in the road, a downed tree or a rockslide, and owing to the narrow, twisting roads of the mountain passes, had skidded over the edge of a cliff. Only the little prince survived, being thrown free somehow (had his mother, foreseeing their doom, hurled him to safety from the plunging vehicle?) before the car took its fatal plunge. All the adults were killed outright, the car a mangled wreck caught in the greenery of the trees below.

Jared read the account with horrified empathy for the poor king and his children. He couldn’t imagine having to grow up with that kind of loss, and suddenly the reticence of the crown prince made sense. Alona had been only a baby when her mother died, she had never known her and would not have suffered greatly for her absence; but Jensen had been six years old, and a witness to - almost a victim of - the accident that took his mother from him. Jared suspected that if it had happened to him, he would be shy of the public, too. Everywhere he went, for the whole of his life, the young prince would have had to face the expectant pity and morbid speculation of the press; he would never have been given the time and space to grieve like an ordinary person. And now, decades later, while the modern press might have moved on to fresh gossip, he would have settled in his ways and be reluctant to resurface and start the whole rumour mill rolling again.

Oh yes, Jared could empathise; and as they flew on, he found himself thinking, not of the glamorous princess who was to be presented at court to all the prospective husbands in attendance, but of her older brother; the sad young prince who was not so very far from Jared in age, and perhaps younger in terms of worldly experience. Jared found himself wondering what Prince Jensen thought of all these festivities thrown in his sister’s honour, and whether he had need of a friend. These thoughts swirled through his head and shaped his dreams as he slept to while away a few hours of the long, night time flight.


	6. A Cautious Welcome

The effect of crossing so many time zones meant that when Jared arrived, despite waking refreshed for breakfast after a whole night in the air, it was already late afternoon. His next meal would be dinner instead of lunch, though at least he would be assured of a hearty service. (Jared’s appetite amazed all who witnessed it as something approaching inhuman.) At the suggestion of the court advisors, he had slept as little as possible on the plane, so that he would be tired enough to go to bed before the sun was up. That way, he could rise reasonably early for breakfast the following day; the best way to overcome jet lag.

As the limo drove from the little airport on the shores of a lake (the only ground flat enough in this country of soaring granite and evergreen clad slopes) to his destination, Jared had plenty of time to observe the scenery and ponder what he had learned before he slept. As the car climbed higher and higher along a dizzying switchback of roads Jared would have labelled as little more than country tracks, he could well believe how the unfortunate queen had met with her accident. He tried hard not to dwell on it, his heart in his mouth at every twist and turn.

They came to the castle without incident, however, and he was thoroughly enchanted by the sight of the carved turrets peeking between the trees as they drove along a topiaried driveway considerably wider than most of the roads they had travelled so far. The whole castle appeared to be built out of wood, gleaming warm and brown as a nut in the sunshine, with traceries of gold along the fretwork which winked like flickering flames each time the angle of view changed and they caught or lost the light. It was a castle out of a fairytale, completely different from the grand, but modern and quite practical edifice in which Jared had spent his life. There was a bewildering profusion of towers and minarets, balconies and arcades and flying buttresses, as though three different castles of quite differing dimensions had somehow been packed inside one another like nesting baskets. And everywhere he looked, perched upon gables, jutting from the corners of window sills and balustrades, peeking slyly from hidden nooks in the architecture, were dragons; hundreds and hundreds of stylised wooden dragons, thronging the building like statuesque pigeons enjoying the late afternoon warmth.

It occurred to Jared that he was going to need a guide while walking around this place, or he was going to become thoroughly lost.

As a visiting dignitary of rank, Jared was welcomed by the king himself, a handsome and imposing man with dark hair and a stern expression which was belied by roguish eyes and lips that twisted easily to humour. He found himself liking the man at once and felt immediately at his ease here, so far from everyone and everything he knew. A servant was assigned to show Jared to his suite so that he could freshen up and change, and then he was guided back along the maze of corridors to join the royal family for their evening meal.

King Jeffrey was joined in the dining hall by his daughter, the princess, but of his eldest there was no sign.

“I’m sorry my son can’t be here to greet you,” the man said with a rueful smile, and it sounded to Jared as though he’d had to make a lot of apologies on the prince’s behalf; it had become almost a rote performance, barely any emotion behind what must once have stung both paternal pride and regal honour. “I’m sure you will meet him soon enough, but he is a little shy of strangers.”

Alona gave a most un-princess-like snort. “That’s father’s diplomatic way of telling you that my brother has an almost pathological dislike of people,” she said to Jared. “Never mind strangers, he barely comes near us half the time. You mustn’t take offense if he stays away; it’s not you at all, it’s just his funny ways.” She smiled winningly and behind the exasperation, Jared could detect a real note of fondness, though he wasn’t sure if her desire to smooth over any possible insult was more on Jensen’s behalf or her own. He raised his wine glass to her in salute.

“I quite understand,” he smiled back warmly, then switched his gaze to the king to be sure he knew that he meant it. “There must be a lot of pressure on him, being the heir; it’s something I can only imagine, being fourth in line to my own family’s throne, and honestly, I’ve always regarded the position as a blessing. I expect he’s saving himself for the ball and a big public appearance; I’ll look forward to meeting him then.”

Alona rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded like “If I should be so lucky,” but her father cleared his throat sternly to quell her and then inclined his head to Jared, saying, “That’s very gracious of you. Fourth in line, you say? That sounds like a large family; and you’re all brothers, I believe. You must have had some fun growing up together.”

The conversation was thus adroitly turned to Jared, who was quite happy to share stories of his childhood and the endless pranks he and Gabriel had devised to tease the others, especially the straitlaced Michael. He soon had both the king and princess laughing at his anecdotes, and moved easily from describing his upbringing to encompass his current life at court. He talked about his beloved dogs, the beaches and the scenery of his homeland; the fine wines and culinary specialities and other interesting customs of his country.

Jared was aware that they were milking him for every drop of information they could get about him, but that was to be expected; both because he was a potential candidate for Alona’s hand, and out of sheer human interest, because he came from so far away. He must, he realised, seem as exotic to them as they did to him; and as the guest, it would have been impolite for him to ask too many questions on his first night here. He had plenty of time to discover more about them, in particular that most burning issue, of whether or not the legends were really true. He had already gained the sense that they were a private, secretive lot before stepping off the plane, and now there was this mysterious aloofness of the crown prince. Although Jared hadn’t been lying when he’d said he understood, he was sure that there was far more to Jensen’s reticence than simple shyness. Jared was good at gaining people’s trust and putting them at their ease, and he employed all his charm and social skills to entertain his hosts at the dinner table, waiting patiently for them to open up and respond to him in turn.

While he talked, Jared caught the occasional, fleeting sense that he was being overheard; not just by his obviously interested listeners, but by another presence not quite within the room, but overlooking it somehow. It felt almost like a touch upon his mind, the faintest of feather-light brushes against his consciousness; like some sixth sense that hidden eyes were upon him, only stronger, that raised goosebumps along the back of his neck. It didn’t make him uneasy; on the contrary it roused his curiosity, and he sensed no malice from the ghostly presence, only an attentive and equally curious regard.

When dinner was over and they left the dining room, Jared heard a faint noise like scratching, and turning his head to locate the sound, was sure he caught a glimpse of something whisking away around a corner down the corridor ahead. Something long and thin and red, like a rope being twitched out of sight; it put Jared in mind of nothing so much as a snake, but that was surely impossible. There might be snakes in the Old Country (though was it warm enough?) but even so, they wouldn’t be roaming loose within the castle.

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, but something held him back. A vague notion was growing at the back of his mind, and he rather thought that he would get an evasive answer, if any at all. Never mind; it could wait. He felt that if he were patient, the mystery would reveal itself, like a wary oyster slowly opening to disclose its pearl.


	7. Family History

After eating, Alona took Jared on a tour of the castle, which was tastefully furnished with antiques. Everything Jared saw, from furniture to paintings, decorative vases to suits of armour and the tapestries and medieval looking weapons hanging on the walls, looked as though it could have come from a museum. Even the most mundane of objects looked older than most of his family’s possessions, though of course clean and well cared for, not mouldering with dust and decay. He was fascinated by it all and didn’t notice the time go by as he followed the princess from room to room, listening with more than courtesy to the histories attached to the various artefacts she pointed out. She was an entertaining guide with a sharp wit and sly sense of humour.

Eventually, Alona excused herself to go to bed, as it was getting late, but not before she led Jared back through the bewildering maze of rooms to the main lounge where her father was sitting, reading. King Jeffrey looked up from his magazine (some publication about mining, Jared noticed from the cover) and gestured to Jared to come over. He took off a pair of reading glasses and let them fall, on a silver chain, to his chest.

“Please, sit down,” he invited. “No no, you aren’t disturbing me; I was just catching up on some reading before bed. The methods and productivity of one of our largest resources; important, but terribly dry, so I welcome the interruption. I don’t suppose you know anything about silver mining?”

When Jared shook his head, feeling somewhat out of his depth, Jeffrey laughed. “Splendid! Then we won’t talk about it, which comes as a great relief. Oh, are you retiring, dear?” This last aside was to the princess, who stepped over to kiss his cheek and murmur her goodnights, flashing a last dimpled smile at Jared before she left the room.

“Have you had an interesting tour?” he asked.

“It’s fascinating,” Jared answered. “This castle has been in your family for centuries; my whole country isn’t as old,” and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“Yes, we dragons go back a long way,” the king agreed. “We have connections throughout many of the old families of the middle kingdoms; your mother, for example. Little Ruthie; how is she, by the way?”

“She’s very well, thank you; but, you know my mother? I mean, are you implying she’s - we’re related?” Jared stammered, astonished.

“In a distant sense only,” Jeffrey replied. “Some sort of cousin several times removed. Nothing that would hinder a closer union between our families,” and he smiled with an intent, yet amicable purpose. 

Jared felt slightly stunned, like a deer caught in headlights. He felt suddenly that this was a very formidable man, and he was glad to be on his good side. His demeanour lived up to the family legends, and if Jeffrey was anything like his ancestors, Jared could imagine their enemies feeling cornered like prey by that keen, almost predatory gaze. He realised it would be a very good idea not to antagonise this king; for example, by doing anything to upset his daughter. Not that he had any intention of being rude to her, of course; but he hoped neither of them would be offended if he didn’t pursue her as his wife, the way it was clearly being set up. He liked Alona well enough, but so far he hadn’t felt that spark of something more, that instant, compelling attraction which would - he was sure - inform him that he had found his soulmate at last.

“Yes, we knew her family quite well here at court,” Jeffrey broke smoothly into Jared’s slightly panicked woolgathering, looking once more the kindly, courteous host. “General Connell was a good friend of my father’s, and I daresay they had ideas at one time of me making a thing of it with your mother; if I hadn’t met my Mary, who knows how things would have turned out? She was certainly a looker, and a spitfire.” He chuckled. “Your father is a lucky man; and brave. Please give her my sincere regards when you next speak with her.”

Jared was, for once, bereft of intelligent speech. He’d had no idea his mother had such close ties to this family, assuming his easy acceptance here was due to his father’s influence. The Sheppards might not have the weight of history of the Morgans, but they were an old and influential family in their own right, key players in the separation and independence of the western kingdom from its emigrant roots. The Hellhounds, as they were unofficially styled, had climbed swiftly through the ranks of war and politics to claim the throne in their bloody, slavering jaws. Once ensconced, they had proven capable and magnanimous rulers, with enough bite to keep potential usurpers at bay. 

It occurred to him that there might be a lot more in common between their families than he had realised, and that more than just his rank made him such a good candidate for Alona’s hand. Clearly, his parents and hers were, if not outright colluding, of matched intent, and he felt a little trapped and manoeuvred like a chess piece. It wasn’t a good revelation and his stubborn streak reared its head like the howling wolf on his family crest; however, he fought to keep his expression neutrally polite and interested.

They chatted a little more, this time the reminiscences coming from Jeffrey as he recalled some of the occasions he and Ruth had met as children. He sounded fond enough, but every story managed to work its way around, in the end, to Mary, his future wife and clearly the love of his life. Jared relaxed as he realised the king was just happy to have someone to talk to about her. It was plain that he still missed her very much.

Eventually, the talk wound down and Jeffrey admitted with an apology that he was tired. “Not so young as I was,” he grinned, “and you’ll be wide awake still with the time difference. Please make yourself at home and entertain yourself however you’d like; the servants will show you where to find what you want. But try not to make too late a night of it, eh? Best way to overcome jet lag is to get right into the daily routines of the time zone you find yourself in. You don’t want to be yawning through the party and you only have a couple of days to adjust!” He patted Jared on the shoulder and took himself off to bed, leaving the young prince alone with a great deal to think about.


	8. Rose Garden at Midnight

Thoughts swirling, and far too energised to consider sleeping yet, since to Jared’s body clock it was still only the middle of the afternoon, he decided to go for a walk. He felt like getting some fresh air and his earlier tour had only encompassed the interior of the castle, so he followed the directions of the castle staff and made his way out into the gardens.

It was a clear night, cooler than he was used to but not at all chilly, and the waxing moon illuminated everything with a gentle, silvery light. He walked between the slumbering silhouettes of topiary, breathing in the scents of cedar, box and cypress while his feet crunched softly on the white gravel paths. He let the contours of the garden guide him as he wandered aimlessly, eventually finding himself within a rose garden. He couldn’t tell the colours of the blooms in the moonlight, but their perfume rose all around him in the stillness, heady and sweet. He breathed in deeply, standing for a moment as he tried to clear his mind and relax, just enjoying the serenity of the night time. He could hear water off to his right, the musical splash of a fountain, and he made his way over, picking a careful route among the flower beds.

The fountain was, of course, a dragon, like everything here. The central statue was carved from white marble, gleaming in the moonlight, great scaled coils poised with wings outstretched as though ready to take flight from the wide bowl of water. It lifted its snout to the sky, streaming forth a great, plumed jet of water as though trying to shoot the moon. Jared didn’t know why, but something about its expression seemed sad. Its forepaws were raised up out of the water, resting on something like a box, or plinth. Jared moved around the fountain to inspect it more closely, and realised with a start that it was a bier. Between the dragon’s great, taloned feet lay the statue of a woman, gleaming like bone in the shadow of its guardian. Her arms were folded over her chest and her hair fanned out around her head in a halo; a long gown, simple but courtly, rippled in marble folds down to her delicate bare feet.

“She was my mother,” a voice spoke to him out of the darkness on the far side of the fountain, low and quiet. A man’s voice, whiskey rough and honey smooth, tingling Jared’s senses. “She died when I was very young, and I miss her,” the voice went on, matter of factly as though simply imparting the history of the gardens. “I come out here sometimes, when I need to think. It helps to remember her; to imagine what she might say to me.”

“And what does she say?” Jared asked softly, his own voice warm with sympathy.

“She would want me to be happy,” Jensen replied, and sighed. “But she’d want my sister to be happy, too. There’s my quandary.”

“You can’t both have happiness?” Jared pursued, gently. He felt pulled by the deep, rich tones of the voice, as though it reached not through his ears but directly into his mind, his heart. It vibrated within him like the plucked string of an instrument or the purring of some great beast, tugging him to move closer. He desperately wanted to catch a glimpse of the speaker, but was afraid of trespassing on his tolerance and driving him away. He stayed still, allowing the prince to come to him, if he would.

Another great sigh, lost like the wind in the muted roar of the fountain, then the voice spoke again but plaintive this time; sounding so much like a petulant child that Jared was glad of the darkness to hide his smile. “I hate parties,” the prince almost whined. “I’m glad for her and I wish her every success, but it’s _her_ special day; why do I have to be there, like a trophy for everyone to gawk at? I wish they’d just leave me alone.”

“Family giving you a hard time, huh?” Jared said wryly; he could empathise only too well. “They always think they know what’s best for you, don’t they? Do this, do that, we all have your best interests at heart; but they never stop to ask what it is you actually want.” 

A chuckle bubbled out from the shadows behind the fountain, and there was the soft rasp of sliding gravel. “You too, then?” said the voice. “I thought it might be like that. Father jumped on your mother’s suggestion so fast, the ink on the invitation was drying by the time they finished the phone call.” Jared gave an appreciative chuckle of his own in response. 

“It’s all about family,” the prince went on, “about heirs and alliances and bloodlines. It’s what’s best for the throne, not the individuals who happen to sit on it. In fact, I don’t suppose anybody stopped to ask Alona what she wants, either. She’s stuck with the burden of my responsibilities, because I’m not doing my duty as the royal heir. You’re lucky being the fourth in line; at least you can say no and walk away, if you want. Or you just don’t have to say anything at all. If you never ask, then she can’t accept, and it all goes back to square one.”

“You never met anyone you thought of asking?” Jared asked, diffidently.

“I - don’t meet too many people,” came the hesitant answer. “Certainly not prospective marriage partners.”

Before this conversation, Jared would have assumed that it was because the prince was shy; he had avoided meeting him over dinner, and was not looking forward to the debutante ball. But there was nothing at all shy in the manner of his approach just now, chatting easily with Jared as though they were old friends.

“You have a hard time getting people to understand you,” he guessed. “They all treat you like the crown prince, and expect you to act like one; and nobody ever looks under the crown to get to know Jensen, do they?”

“Got it in one,” came the reply, and there was a further clink and rattle of shifting gravel. “I knew you’d be different. You seemed so… unaffected, at dinner, telling all those stories about growing up. You weren’t trying to impress anyone; you were just being yourself.”

“That was you, wasn’t it,” Jared breathed, the confirmation of his suspicions pricking his skin to goosebumps like the brush of feathers. “You were listening outside the door; I sensed it, somehow, felt your presence.”

He felt it now, too, he realised; the same soft touch on his mind, only firmer, surer. Each time the voice spoke from the shadows beyond the fountain… only it wasn’t coming from behind the fountain. It was inside Jared’s head, as close as his own thoughts, but distinctly separate.

“You’re talking to me in my head!” he exclaimed, pleased with himself for figuring it out, and somehow not nearly as surprised as he should have been.

“I am,” Jensen agreed. “It’s how we communicate, when we’re shifted. My mouth doesn’t work the right way to produce complex sounds; might as well try and get a dog to say ‘sausages’.”

“So can anyone hear you?” Jared asked, trying not to let his imagination get carried away over the shape of a mouth that couldn’t emulate human speech. He really, really wanted to see Jensen; the statue of the fountain, come alive in flesh and blood. It was an almost unimaginable wonder, but he didn’t want to seem crass and excitable like the crowds who followed him around in public, cheering if he so much as glanced in their direction. He wanted to like Jensen for himself, not just because he was a dragon, and he wanted Jensen to know it.

“Not just anyone, no,” Jensen murmured into his mind. “Most people don’t have the slightest idea I’m there, even when I shout their names. I was very careful at dinner, but I could tell you sensed me; you were looking for me, when you came out into the corridor. I’m sorry I ran away; I wanted our first meeting to be…”

“...away from the expectant eyes of your father and sister?” Jared asked, shrewdly, and was rewarded with a huff of laughter that almost felt warm, like an animal snuffling into the palm of his hand, but far more intimate.

“Something like that, yes,” the mind-voice agreed. “I wanted it to be on our own terms, prince to prince; man to… dragon.”

“So now we’ve made each-other’s acquaintance,” Jared said, “are you going to come out from behind the fountain so I can see you? I’ve never met a dragon before; until last night, I never even realised you existed. It’s cool if you don’t want to,” he added quickly, “but I just want you to know, I’m not going to be embarrassing and make a fuss about it. I’d just like to put a shape to the voice in my head, you know?”

“You’d like to see me… as a dragon?” Jensen sounded pleased, and suddenly shy, and Jared wondered what was going on here. In a kingdom where dragons were the overriding motif, why would the heir to a family of people who could turn into dragons wonder at anyone wanting to catch a glimpse of such a marvel?

“Yes please,” Jared admitted softly. “I’d like that very much.”


	9. Jensen Reveals Himself

There was a sudden tearing scrunch of stone, as of a large and heavy object - creature - moving over the loose packed gravel, and then a long, rakish head curled around the side of the statue at eye level and large eyes blinked at Jared through the curtain of falling water.

“Oh, my God,” Jared breathed, entranced. It was true, he was real; he was a dragon, a real, live, existing dragon, and he was right here, coming to meet him in the moonlight shadows of a rose garden. Jared had to pinch himself to be sure he wasn’t dreaming. Then,

“Hey,” said Jensen inside Jared’s mind, sounding a little unsure; and,

“Hey,” Jared answered, full of breathless amazement. “Hello, Jensen.”

The head ducked back out of sight and Jared panicked that he’d done something to offend or scare him away, but his worries were needless. Before he could even draw breath to call after him, Jensen appeared again; this time, all of him coming into view as he padded around the base of the fountain and sat down on his haunches right in front of Jared.

He was not as large as Jared’s general idea of dragons had led him to expect. In fact the bulk of him was man sized, and sitting - squatting? - as he was now, his head would have barely reached Jared’s chest, except for the sinuous length of his neck. The head was long too, like a horse’s, but the muzzle was narrow and almost beaked, giving it an elegant and predatory cast. Twin horns curved back along the line of the spine, ridged and gleaming, wickedly sharp. What must be his wings were tightly furled, folded up along his flanks and adding substantially to his serpentine girth. His tail, long and whip-cord thin at the end, was curled around his claws like a cat’s. 

He looked so much like the statue on the fountain that Jared had to glance aside to check that it was still there, that it hadn’t somehow been Jensen all along.

“Is that you?” he blurted his thoughts aloud. The dragon cocked his head to the side quizzically and Jared clarified, “The statue on the fountain; it looks just like you.”

“It’s father,” Jensen explained, “but I believe we share a close resemblance.”

“I can’t believe it,” Jared’s voice quavered on a shaky laugh. “You’re a dragon. Really a dragon. You’re real - no no, obviously you’re real, I mean _dragons_ are real, and I’m actually looking at one right now; unless I’m dreaming of course, but-”

“Breathe,” suggested the voice in his head, tinged with amusement. “I’m a dragon, and I’m real, and I’m not going anywhere, so if you need a moment…”

Jared followed his advice and drew deep, steadying lungfuls of rose scented air while staring at the dragon as though it might vanish if he dared to so much as blink. The dragon - Jensen - gazed back patiently, as still as the marble replica beside them.

Then Jared said, quickly before he could dissuade himself, “May I - would it be alright to touch you? Just that - if I am dreaming…”

Jensen snorted, a real huff of sound from his angular muzzle. “Go ahead, knock yourself out,” he offered indulgently, the words forming in Jared’s head as before.

Jared put out a hesitant hand and laid his fingers against the dragon’s shoulder, which seemed a reasonably impersonal spot to touch. It felt solid, and warm, and leathery. He stroked his hand downwards and felt the smoothly ridged indentations of scales; then he looked up and caught a flash of moonlight reflected in the dragon’s eye, and snatched his hand back as he remembered this was a person, not a beast to be petted.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, “I’m - it’s just a lot to take in,” he stumbled over his words, feeling his cheeks heat as he blushed and once more glad of the concealing darkness. “I’m usually a lot more with it than this, I promise; I know it must be annoying. I’m behaving like some giddy fanboy and you must get that all the time, you’ll be sick of it.”

“Not so much,” Jensen answered, and he sounded a little odd. “I don’t see many people, remember; and everyone here knows me, so they don’t… well. I’m glad I could give you your first official dragon experience,” and the tone of his mind-voice turned teasing, but also pleased.

“I thought I was going to have to wait a lot longer than this,” Jared admitted. “I’ve gotten the impression… well, I read some stuff on the plane coming over, and then talking to your father… you’re not giving away some sort of state secret, are you, by showing yourself to me like this?”

Jensen laughed, this time both in Jared’s head and with a physical whuff of air that drifted to his nostrils with a suggestion of burnt matches. “What we are isn’t really a secret,” he replied, “we just tend to downplay it to avoid a media circus. It’s fine for _you_ to see. You’re a privileged guest; and besides, if our parents have their way, you’ll be part of the family before long.”

Jared was silent for some moments as he thought for the first time about what that would really mean. If he married Alona, he would be part of a family of dragons; presumably she could change just like her male relatives, and it was on the tip of his tongue to ask, but it occurred to him that if he was to get to know the princess better, that was just the sort of leading question he could use. Now that he knew they really were dragons, he was keen to find out a lot more about it all. The only problem was, he didn’t feel that marrying Alona was the way forward. Even as a dragon, she didn’t quite fit with his vague notions of a soulmate. He had no idea who, or what, would fit; he just knew he wouldn’t question it when he found them.

“Earth to Jared..?” Jensen probed gently, at the same time poking him in the chest with his nose. “We’re not that strange, once you get to know us; and you don’t have to make your mind up on the spot! There’s plenty of time for you and Alona to see if you suit. You only just arrived.”

“I did,” Jared smiled at him, pleased that Jensen was so quick in his understanding, and he shelved the issue of matrimonial duty for the present. He wasn’t done yet with his questions; he wanted to know everything he could about the being in front of him.

“So… you’re a dragon,” he restated the obvious, “does that mean you can breathe fire?”

Jensen answered that question by pointing his muzzle to the sky, the mirror image of the sculpture on the fountain, and shooting forth a blazing streamer of orange flame. Jared was close enough to feel the heat and he laughed with delighted amazement, applauding softly.

“Oh wow, that is awesome,” he enthused. “It’s better than fireworks. Can you - would you do it again?”

Jensen obliged and this time Jared whooped his appreciation, and Jensen jumped up and pranced around on the spot, half unfurling his wings, his pleased laughter echoing in Jared’s mind.

“I’ll give you a proper show tomorrow,” he offered eagerly, “only it’s too dark right now to fly, and you wouldn’t see much. And to be honest, I’m a little tired; it’s getting late. I know you probably can’t sleep yet, it’s what, only mid-afternoon for you?”

“Yeah, I probably won’t get much sleep tonight,” Jared agreed a little ruefully. “But if I make sure I’m up early, it’s the best way to reset my body clock. Don’t want to be yawning my way through Alona’s presentation!” They both laughed.

“I can show you the library, if you like?” Jensen suggested, shyly. “I mean, I know it’s not exactly top class entertainment, but if you’re going to be up half the night with nothing to do… I’d suggest a movie, but that’s probably not a good idea if you want any chance of feeling sleepy.”

“No, the library sounds great,” Jared answered truthfully. This could be the perfect opportunity for further research; what better place to find out about dragons, after all, than in a dragons’ library?


	10. Dragon Genealogy

He followed Jensen back to the castle, the dragon padding along on all fours with just the faintest crunch of gravel under his feet. As soon as they were inside, with decent illumination, he saw that Jensen’s scales were a deep, rich red, shading around the edges to burnished copper. His leathery wings were red too, but so dark they seemed almost black, and his eyes were as green as the forests that cloaked the surrounding mountains. Jared couldn’t help staring, sending sidelong, admiring glances as they walked. If Jensen noticed the attention, he said nothing about it.

The library was impressive, lined floor to ceiling with polished shelves replete with books that Jared itched to get his hands on. Stuffed leather chairs were grouped cozily around low tables, and the brass lamps were styled like dragons (of course!) with the shades artfully designed to look like umbrellas of flame in red silk blossoming from their jaws.

Jensen gave him a quick overview of the different sections, arranged by theme; history, geography, the natural world, and so on. To Jared, he sounded proprietary, more familiar with the library’s arrangement than simply because it was a room in his own home. Jared had the feeling that Jensen spent quite a lot of time in here, perhaps enjoying the solitude as much as reading. It seemed that they had at least one interest in common. Finally, Jensen came to a stop by one slim section of shelving. 

“These are the books on our family’s personal history,” he said. “I know you’ll be wanting to find out everything you can about dragons, and maybe a night in here will stop you from peppering me with questions tomorrow. A lot of the books are in our native tongue, or other languages like Latin; but these here-” he indicated one shelf with a raised claw, “-are in English. They’re not the most informative, but you’ll find more here than you ever will online, so it’s a start. And if you want anything, a snack or a drink, just ask the night staff.” 

Jared thanked him and Jensen wished him goodnight and padded off, leaving him alone with the books. He leafed quickly through several volumes to get an idea of what they were about, and soon discovered - to his disappointment - that they didn’t have anything to say about dragons. At least not the ones he could read. There was a great deal about local history, commerce and culture, with a focus upon the nation’s ruling family, but not specifically about them. There were records of the castle’s construction, showing how it had been expanded over time, each generation adding a wing here, a tower there, for reasons which were quite logical and necessary at the time, but overall just added to its bewildering complexity. Then he found a tome about the family’s lineage, which seemed to stretch back into the Dark Ages before records began. There was a family tree in this book going back several generations, if not as far as history averred, and he went to sit down with it to take his time. 

The chart was hand drawn, with varying inks and styles of penmanship, and some of the entries were illustrated. Beside many of the names there were tiny, stylised dragon heads, inked carefully in vivid but fading blues, greens and reds. Some of the top ones were even picked out with gilt outlines. The older art was depicted with style and care, but either talent or consideration tailed off down the generations. The most recent pictures were little more than abstract lines of pen, a rough head with an s shaped curve for horns and a dotted eye. Their colours were noted by capital letters, or so he assumed; there was an R next to Jensen’s name, also his father’s; Alona’s entry bore a B. That answered one of his questions, at any rate. 

He guessed that these images represented the true dragons of the bloodline, and as the tree extended, more and more children appeared to be born who did not bear the signature mark of the dragon. A tiny crown over the dragon’s head seemed to mark those individuals who inherited the throne, and he noticed that the dragons took precedence; the crown always went to such heirs, rather than the eldest. Jensen’s dragon was already marked with a crown.

Intrigued by the statistical anomaly; there were so few dragons in the lower branches of the tree that it seemed improbable for both of the king’s children to have the gift; he checked back on some of the older names, on a hunch. He found that the family name of Campbell - Jensen’s mother’s maiden name - was interwoven with that of the Morgans several times. Mary Campbell did not have a dragon head by her name, but some of the other Campbells marked there did; however, the chart was centred on the Morgan family, so those branches were incomplete and it was impossible to follow Mary’s ancestry back in detail. It seemed clear to him though that the family had tried, at several points, to strengthen the bloodline by intermarrying cousins. 

Following this idea, Jared searched closely until he found a name that occurred quite frequently back in the older part of the tree. It was O’Connell, not Connell, but so similar that, with King Jeffrey’s comments after dinner, Jared had to wonder if these were his own ancestors. Did he, too, carry dragon blood from his mother’s side of the family? If so, perhaps this made him more than a potential suitor for Alona; it could mean he was their prime candidate. He stroked his finger thoughtfully over the little golden head by the name of one Elizabeth Morgan, who was the first to marry into the O’Connell clan. He would have some questions for his own mother, too, when he saw her.

Jared wondered if this had all been some sort of test; if Jensen wanted to see whether he was really interested enough to wade through all the dry, dusty history to find what was important. He could easily have told Jared which book to read, if he’d simply wanted him to make the connection; but perhaps he’d just felt it was better to leave Jared to browse and find his own way. Jared felt quite sure that Jensen knew the books in this section of the library, well enough to be certain that the information he actually wanted wasn’t here; but he would be aware of the family tree, and that it would pique Jared’s interest. It could, he thought, simply be Jensen’s way of warning him what was invested in an alliance, since nobody had come out to explain things directly, and he had to wonder why. 

He read some more of the book, which was all about the exploits of the Morgan family; how they had excelled in war and fought to carve out and govern their own kingdom, much like Jared’s ancestors had done. But although it was a lot more interesting than the others he had leafed through, it still had little to say on the subject of actual dragons. It was as though there were some kind of conspiracy afoot, to keep anything concrete out of print, so that nobody could use it as evidence. He supposed that actually made sense.

Eventually, all the reading had Jared yawning and he put the book away and went in search of bed. His stomach rumbled as he stood up, and he wondered where he might find staff at this late hour, but was surprised by the manservant who had been assigned to him when he arrived. The man coalesced smoothly out of the shadows as he exited the library, offering to show him to his room, and - as though reading Jared’s mind (or hearing his complaining stomach) - also offering to bring him some supper, though by their time, Jared supposed it was almost an early breakfast.

Finally he retired for what remained of the night, after tucking happily into a turkey club sandwich, apple strudel and fresh banana milkshake (because he wasn’t about to upset his circadian rhythms even more with caffeine, and bananas were supposed to help you sleep). There were some little cookies on the saucer with the milkshake, thin and crisp and brown and rich with cinnamon. They were shaped like dragons; of course they were. He smiled to himself as he settled into bed and tried to force his mind to relax. Dragons, dragons, everywhere!


	11. Breakfast Etiquette

Along with his post-midnight snack, Jared had requested a wake up call, just to be sure he wouldn’t switch off and ignore his phone alarm. He yawned heavily as he made his way down to the breakfast room, following his seemingly ever-present guide. What time must he have gone to bed himself, after waiting for Jared to leave the library, and yet here he was bright and early, ready to do his duty? He would have to discover the man’s name, but right now every brain cell was whimpering for coffee and in no state to attempt conversation with the palace staff. Caffeine would likely be the focal point of his entire day.

He walked in to two greetings, one stately ‘good morning’ from the king and one far too bright and cheerful for the time of day from the irrepressible princess. Still, Jared had been raised to be polite, so he mustered the shreds of his familial dignity to return the statement before stumbling over to the carafe whose aroma drew him like a magnet. He was not going to wait even a single moment longer for a member of staff to serve him!

Jeffrey chuckled as Jared eased himself down at the table, face buried in his cup.

“It’ll get easier,” the man assured him, his tone suggesting a twinkle in his eye which Jared was unable to verify, due to being bonded to the china as though by superglue. “What time did you manage to get your head down in the end?”

Jared drained the last of his coffee before answering, and was gratified when a serving attendant appeared at his elbow to refill it. The staff back home were well trained, of course, silver service professionals; but here they seemed to have almost a psychic grasp of what was required, and acted before he could even articulate a request.

“Some time after five, I think,” he told the king. “Pretty early for me really, if I’d been back home, but I made sure I didn’t sleep too much on the plane. Please excuse me if I drift off or start yawning today,” he smiled at Alona. “It won’t be anything personal, just the jet lag.”

“You’d better not drift off while you’re on horseback,” she answered, and it sank into Jared’s still wakening brain that she was dressed for riding, in a neat blue jacket and white shirt. At his look of enquiry she smiled brightly and explained, “I always take a horse out after breakfast; thought you might like to join me and get a tour of the estate? Be just the thing to blow those cobwebs out of your head. You can ride, of course..?”

It was barely a query, said in the tones of all horsey people worldwide, who cannot conceive of anyone not looking upon their hobby with the same dedicated fascination as themselves.

“I can ride,” Jared grinned back, “if you’ve a mount big enough for me. At home I usually go running, with my dogs along the beach.”

“Lucky dogs. What are their names?” That question did not come from Alona, or her father! The princess’ eyes grew round and Jared turned his head in surprise, to see Jensen saunter into the room (can a dragon saunter?) and head for the serving covers, where he flicked out a long ribbon of tongue to taste the air. “Are there eggs?” he added, to the room at large.

“Not if you intend on sitting down to table like that,” his father replied, repressively. “Good morning, Jensen,” he then said as though reminding his eldest of the proper social graces. “I take it you and Jared have already met, or did you forget we have a guest..?”

“Oh, we had a long chat last night out in the garden, since neither of us could sleep,” Jensen answered breezily. “I’ll have those poached eggs and bacon with toast,” he added, this time to the serving maid who was waiting behind the table.

“That sounds good to me too,” Jared put in, the coffee waking him up enough to be interested in food.

“You may serve our guest,” the king directed the maid, “but Jensen, we’ve talked about this. If you insist on staying as you are,” he made a vague, peremptory gesture that almost suggested distaste, “then you can’t sit and eat in company; especially not company from outside the family.”

“Oh, very well,” Jensen muttered, and slunk over to plonk himself down on his haunches at the far end of the table, between Jared and Alona and as far from the king as he could get. His tail curled primly around his claws again, just as it had last night beside the fountain. “Guess I’ll eat when you two head out riding.”

The atmosphere felt strained to Jared, with that awkwardness that results when someone is accidentally privy to a long-standing domestic dispute. It would have happened regardless of his presence, and wasn’t delicate enough for them to close ranks and pretend nothing was wrong for the sake of the outsider in their midst, but he could tell that both the king and Alona were embarrassed, and Jensen; for all that his emotions should have been hard to read; looked the picture of wounded innocence.

“I - I don’t mind, really it’s not an issue,” Jared stammered, as his own breakfast was placed quietly and efficiently before him, but King Jeffrey turned to him and said smoothly, “That’s very kind of you Jared, but we would prefer Jensen to use the cutlery like a civilised person. I’m glad you two have met, of course; I was going to introduce you before too much longer-” his tone conveyed clearly that he had hoped this might have been man to man, instead of man to dragon, “-but I had hoped my son and heir would remember his position enough to refrain from such juvenile behaviour.” 

The king turned to glare disapprovingly at his wayward offspring, and Jensen’s head drooped. “Your gift is a privilege and a responsibility,” Jeffrey went on, in lecturing tones. “It shouldn’t be used like a party trick to amaze and amuse our guests.”

“Really, it wasn’t like that,” Jared tried to play peace-keeper, somehow aware as though he possessed some sixth sense of the unhappiness radiating from the dragon, who was now hunched in upon himself below the table, out of the direct line of the accusatory glances of his relatives. “It was me who surprised him when I went for a walk; he was very proper and welcoming, not trying to impress me at all.”

Jared remembered suddenly, and very distinctly, how reticent - almost fearful - Jensen had been upon discovery, and the pleased shyness which had met Jared’s admiration, as though it wasn’t something he was used to or expected.

“Hmph,” the king snorted softly. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, at any rate; but Jensen, if you want to join us at mealtimes in the future, I will have to insist that you take a more suitable form. No son of mine is going to sit at table and lick from his plate like an animal. Now we have spent quite enough time on this interruption; Jared, please, don’t let your breakfast grow cold.”

They all got on with their meal, while Jensen cast grateful looks up towards Jared from where he now lay curled up on the floor like one of his dogs, and Jared just barely restrained himself from sneaking him bits of bacon under the table; it wasn’t as though the prince was going to go hungry, after all, his breakfast was just going to have to wait a little longer. He wondered why Jensen didn’t just transform himself right there so he could join them; perhaps it was a difficult and protracted process, or more likely he would need to find clothing after the change, since he certainly wasn’t wearing anything as a dragon!

As they continued to eat, the mood around the table thawed, and they managed some desultory conversation in which even Jensen joined, his direct-to-mind expression seeming to reach all in the room just like normal speech. They discussed comfortable topics such as their plans for Jared’s entertainment during his visit, Alona’s coming-out party, and points of comparison between their two homes. Dragons were not mentioned again, and Jared put all his questions on hold for when he could next speak with Jensen in private; for whatever reason, it was clearly a contentious subject.

When breakfast was over, Jared hoped to have a word or two alone with the prince, but Alona swept him off to get ready for their ride, and as he tried subtly to linger for a moment outside the door, he heard the king say quietly:

“A moment please, Jensen. That will do thank you Eleanor; Gustav; you may clear up later, when Jensen has finished.”

The serving staff exited the room then and Jared had to walk away, his curiosity unsatisfied. He was no eavesdropper, but he felt sorry for the prince, who (as far as he could see) had done nothing wrong, but looked set to receive a tongue lashing. Jared wished he could say something to help, but he didn’t know these people well enough to intercede, and the king was plainly set in his ideas. Oh well, he had time enough to make their better acquaintance, and if they wanted him to join the family then they would have to explain things sooner or later. 

For now, he tried to put thoughts of the dejected dragon prince out of his head and to concentrate on finding something suitable to wear on horseback. As usual he found that Garth, his valet back home, had anticipated his needs to perfection, and he smiled as he sorted through his luggage, which his new manservant (dammit, he had to find out his name!) had tidied away into the antique carved wardrobe and drawers of scented cedarwood.

When a knock came on his bedroom door, he felt his heartbeat quicken in the hope that it might be Jensen; but it was the princess, come to fetch him for their equestrian jaunt. He smiled back, suitably responsive to her cheerful demeanour, though really he wished he could be going riding with her brother; or simply staying behind with him at the castle to talk.


	12. The Prince Shows Off His Skills

Jared did not see Jensen at all for the rest of that day, though he looked for him in the gardens before bedtime. He enjoyed the ride out with Alona, but still didn’t feel anything more towards her than a developing friendship. The subject of dragons did not come up, and after the reaction at breakfast, Jared was determined to learn more from Jensen himself before he went blundering in and making things awkward with the wrong questions.

Over the next few days, as the date of the debutante ball drew nearer, Jared’s time was taken up with partnering Alona in various activities that were clearly meant both to entertain him and to help them get to know one another. He wasn’t given much opportunity to talk to Jensen, at least not alone; and although he didn’t exactly avoid Jared, the prince simply wasn’t around very often, especially after mealtimes, to which he never showed after that first awkward breakfast.

Jensen did join Jared and Alona for some activities, and these were Jared’s favourites. There was a close affection between the siblings and Jared found himself relaxing and playing off their camaraderie, where with Alona alone, he was constantly aware of the family’s ulterior intentions towards him. 

On the third day, Alona invited him to play a game of tennis. It wasn’t Jared’s favourite sport, but he was reasonably competent, and after half an hour Jensen joined them. At first he just watched from the sidelines, occasionally running to fetch back an errant ball, but that somehow developed into a three-way game of tag, until they were all running around the court laughing their heads off. After a while, Alona excused herself, saying she needed to go and take a swim to cool down, and Jared finally found the private time he had wanted with the dragon prince.

“So are you deliberately avoiding me or is it just that all these human activities are poorly designed for dragons?” Jared asked him teasingly as he sat down on a bench at the side of the court for a breather.

Jared wasn’t sure if he would have recognised the grimace which crossed the dragon’s face, but he clearly felt the emotional ripple which accompanied it. He had learned quickly, even with their minimal contact, that the prince’s mental communication comprised more than words.

“Father warned me off, that first day after breakfast,” Jensen admitted with obvious chagrin. “He reminded me that you were invited here to meet Alona, and he… It was strongly implied that I should stop getting in the way.”

Jared frowned, but couldn’t say he was really surprised. “So what changed?” he asked, regarding his friend closely.

Jensen shrugged a wing and snorted a wry huff of amusement. “Alona,” he replied. “She doesn’t like being played any more than you do; says - and don’t take offence, it’s nothing personal - that she’s too young to grab onto the first young man her father throws in her way, however handsome.”

Jared laughed aloud. “Go Alona!” he exclaimed. “Guess I owe her one now. I mean, not that I’ve anything against your sister,” he almost tripped over his own tongue in an effort not to appear rude, “but it just seems like we’re on the same page; I wish she’d said something sooner.”

“I think she just wanted to give it some time until father let his gaze relax.” Jensen grinned back knowingly, revealing shining rows of shark-like teeth. “So now that we have a couple of hours to play hooky, what do you want to do?”

“Well,” Jared said slowly, “you did offer… that first night when I met you… I mean, if you don’t mind? I’d love to see you fly.”

Jensen gave off one of his shyly pleased ripples of emotion and shook his wings. “I don’t mind at all,” he answered, “but we’d better go a bit further from the castle in case someone spots me and wonders what I’m up to. Come on, follow me; I know just the place.”

He bounded off just like a dog, his wings bunched high on his back and his tail whisking behind him, and Jared had to jog to keep up, chuckling the whole way. Jensen led him along one of the forest rides which Jared knew from his morning excursions with Alona, and soon they came to a clearing in the woods which he had noticed before. It was wide and sunny, full of wildflowers, and Jensen romped happily into the middle before turning to grin back at Jared, this time with his long tongue hanging out over the side of his jaws.

“This is where I practice,” he said eagerly, “so I don’t get an earful from Father about acting my status, and all that garbage. It’s pretty secluded.”

“Practice what?” Jared asked, and Jensen answered “You’ll see. Actually, you’ll be the first… I haven’t even shown Alona. She’s not as bad as Father but she still thinks I’m not serious enough. I think this whole family can be too damned serious, at times.”

With that, he took off running in a wide circle around the field, trampling the grass and flowers into a narrow track, his wings held low and stiff to the sides like half unfolded fans. He did look a little ridiculous, but once he’d put on enough speed to get airborne and leapt up without warning, his wings spreading like sails to their full span, Jared caught his breath with admiration. 

Jensen’s scales gleamed like fire in the sun as he flew high into the sky on a corkscrew path. He hovered in the air for a moment, then sent forth a bright stream of flame as though challenging the heavens, before tilting forward, closing his wings and hurtling back towards the earth. Jared’s heart leapt into his throat, but at the last moment, the dragon’s wings opened again with a thundering snap and he arced back around as though propelled from a slingshot, then soared through a series of loop the loops as he climbed back to his vantage point. 

Jared whooped and applauded, hugely impressed, and Jensen’s mind-voice spoke to him as though he was standing right there, instead of a hundred feet up in the air. “Thank you, thank you; now, ladies and gentlemen, for my next trick - I call this one ‘the tornado’.”

He plummeted again but this time kept one wing outstretched, so that he described a spiral as he fell, gradually spinning faster and faster and in a tighter and tighter circle. When he got halfway down he let loose with his fiery breath and the wind whipped it around behind him in flickering streamers. He spun for a moment like a ballet dancer, pirouetting in midair as his flames lapped around him like a cheerleader’s ribbon; then he spread both wings wide and the spiral expanded. He flew the rest of the way down as lazily as a sycamore seed, touching down light as a cat beside Jared.


	13. A Firm Friendship

“That was amazing!” Jared did not stint his enthusiasm. “You’re like a one-man airshow; you would seriously wow the crowds. Your family ought to see this, the skill involved - how long have you been practicing those moves? That’s some pretty major dedication, there’s no way they could accuse you of being frivolous.”

Panting from the exertion, Jensen flopped heavily into the grass at Jared’s feet. “Oh I wouldn’t put it past them,” he responded wryly. “They’d accuse me of taking too many risks; even though dragons are meant to fly,” his tone shaded with a slight bitterness, “even though I found these maneuvers in a book on _dragon warfare,_ so I’m being about as frivolous as my ancestors who founded this whole damned country.”

Jared sat down in the grass beside the disgruntled dragon and cupped his chin in his hands, elbows on his knees, to listen. 

“Time was,” Jensen went on darkly, “people actually respected dragons around here; nowadays they just treat me like I’m some kind of circus freak and it’s all ‘Jensen, don’t let anyone see you,’ and ‘Jensen, what would people think?’ They wouldn’t care how much skill it takes, they’d just see it as making a spectacle of myself.” He laid his nose along his forepaws in the grass and sighed gustily.

“But I thought… aren’t your father and Alona both dragons, too?” Jared asked, confused. “I get not showing outsiders, or non-dragons, but… they ought to respect what you can do, at least. Don’t they ever change and fly?”

Jensen barked a humourless laugh and snapped at a flower waving in front of his nose. “I advise you not to ask them,” he said dryly. “They’d probably react like you suggested they run around in their underwear. Dragons just aren’t ‘the thing’ these days; we’re supposed to keep it to ourselves. If they do change, I’ve never caught them at it; Alona and I used to fly together, when we were kids, but I haven’t seen her dragon form in years. Only reason I know father can - well, he’s the king of course, and then there’s his statue on the fountain. And Mutti - that’s my grandmother; she once told me I looked just like him when he was small.”

“Is that why you stay in dragon form so much?” Jared asked, with knowing sympathy. “Rebelling against the new world order?”

Jensen just hummed, rather noncommittally, Jared thought. “I’m not trying to be a rebel,” he said suddenly, more plaintive than annoyed. “I just don’t see why, if we have this ability, we shouldn’t use it; and get good at it. Our ancestors weren’t embarrassed to fly; they used to fight one another in the air, dragon on dragon!”

“I bet they’d be proud of you,” Jared said with conviction. “I thought you were amazing. Will you show me that book - the aerial combat one? What other kinds of moves are there; are there any where you fly up and stab your opponent with your horns?”

Jensen laughed. “Bloodthirsty, aren’t we?” he teased. “Maybe there’s more dragon in you than Father suspects.” He glanced sidelong at Jared from one green eye. “You found the book, didn’t you?” he asked; but it was more of a statement than a question. Jared simply nodded, holding his breath.

“Might as well come right out and say it,” Jensen admitted, “they want you for the bloodline. Obviously we can’t just keep marrying one another, incest isn’t good for genetics, but the more outsiders come into the family, the more the dragon becomes diluted. You’d think they’d be prouder, trying to hold onto what’s left, but somehow it’s become our dirty little secret; tradition dictates that the king has to be a dragon, but he shouldn’t actually show himself as one. Something about not scaring the commoners or it’ll all lead to pitchforks at dawn. It’s stupid. And whether you marry Alona or not, I think you should know more about your own heritage; even if you can’t change. Starting with the fact that we don’t stab people,” and he nudged Jared in the ribs, none too gently, with the slope of his forehead and the smooth curve of horn at the base of his skull.

“See? You’d be bleeding now if they were a weapon,” he explained. “Horns are for defence; aerial combat, get it? One of the standard ways to take out an enemy is to get on top of him; literally. You drop down from above and try to pin his wings with your claws, while you get a grip on the back of his neck. Of course that’s harder with the horns, because while you’re doing that, he’s whipping his head around and protecting the area. And that’s a good way to get stabbed in the eye.” While he talked, he demonstrated, waving his head around on his long, agile neck so that Jared had to scuttle back out of the way so he wouldn’t be accidentally jabbed.

“Woah, woah, okay, I get it,” he laughed. “Don’t stab me! Seems like a pretty decent weapon from my perspective. You’ve obviously been doing your homework. You got any other moves you can show me?”

Jensen snapped at another flower. “Bit difficult to try most of them without a partner,” he said with a mental shrug. “Actually, the tornado? That one’s kind of my own move; not the basic turns, but I adapted it to look more showy.”

“Well you can colour me impressed,” Jared said warmly. “And I don’t see why anyone should be scared of you either, especially not in this day and age. You’re pretty cool, but I don’t see you going up against an attack helicopter,” and he nudged Jensen in the ribs with his elbow.

“I’ll have you know I am fearsome, and you should bow down and tremble before my might!” Jensen growled playfully, and he made a mock snap of his jaws at Jared’s arm. Things degenerated pretty quickly into some kind of hybrid of a wrestling match and a tickling fight, until they both subsided, breathless and happy, somehow bundled up together in the grass in a tangle of limbs.

It had been a good day; and although they had to go back to the castle after that, and Jensen made himself scarce again, Jared didn’t mind. He and the prince were fast friends now, and he knew that wouldn’t change, even if Jared didn’t marry his sister. The three of them were in accord, despite the machinations of their parents, and that took a great weight off Jared’s shoulders. He was free once again to pursue his ideal soulmate - whoever that might turn out to be.


	14. Incident At The Ball

As a guest, Jared was spared from the preparations for the debutante ball. He did wonder if, besides the king’s hope that he would fall for Alona, he was serving the dual purpose of keeping her distracted so that everyone else could get on with things. 

Finally the day of the ball arrived, and Alona was suddenly very busy getting ready. Jared usually saw Jensen for at least a brief while after breakfast each day, but this morning he was nowhere to be found. Jared would have gone off to look for him in the castle grounds, but King Jeffrey asked him to come and help welcome the guests, who would all be arriving soon. Jared felt that he couldn’t refuse; the king had been very good to him and already seemed to treat him like a second son, and he felt a niggling guilt over his resolve not to offer for Alona’s hand. Besides, he felt that by helping out he was standing in for Jensen, which might deflect some of the king’s ire from his perceived dereliction of duty. Jared was very good at being personable and hosting events; he had plenty of practice from back home.

“I just wish you could be the one to escort me when I make my appearance,” Alona had confided fretfully over breakfast. “But it wouldn’t do, because you’re a candidate; it has to be someone from my family, someone close, and that mule-headed brother of mine has stuck me without any options. Jared, _please_ keep an eye on Chad and make sure he doesn’t embarrass me, won’t you? Of course you can have the first dance.” She had smiled archly, her teeth small and even and yet somehow reminding him of Jensen’s serrated grin, and he had had no reason or inclination to refuse.

Thus, between helping the king, looking out for Alona, and his official role at the party, Jared had his hands full from the time the first guests started to trickle into the castle, to be entertained with a lavish buffet and live orchestra. As he wandered among the visiting dignitaries from a whole fistful of countries he had barely heard of, gently correcting the frequent assumption that he was in fact Jensen himself, Jared became aware of something tickling at the back of his brain like clammy, scraping claw tips.

It was like a seething pressure cooker of emotions, frustration and anxiety and helpless self-disgust; but none of them were his own, and he had a pretty good idea where they were coming from. Jared gradually worked his way across the room, greeting and then extracting himself politely from the attention of perfect strangers, until finally he came to stand in front of the heavy velvet drapes that framed the doorway into the garden; that same doorway through which he had followed Jensen into the castle, his first night here.

“Are you really going to hide behind a curtain for the duration of the party?” he murmured, covering his mouth by pretending to drink from a glass of champagne.

“No! Yes! Don’t judge me!” Jensen hissed back, his mind-voice taut with nerves. “I can’t show myself to this lot, Father would have a fit; but I can’t desert Alona either. It’s her special day, and I should be there to present her; but I just can’t do it, man, I’m failing her. The least I can do is turn up to watch, so she knows I care.”

“I’m sure she knows,” Jared tried to reassure his friend. “And I understand, even if nobody else does; so don’t worry, because I’m here, and I won’t let anything happen to spoil the party.”

“Thanks Jay, I really appreciate it.” Jensen’s gratitude rolled over the other prince in a warm wave as he used the fond diminutive he had begun calling Jared ever since the afternoon when he had shown off his aerial acrobatics.

“You really should keep an eye on Chad though,” he added. “I’ve done what I could, but he’s a law unto himself and far be it from someone like _me_ to persuade him.” His tone turned faintly bitter.

“Alona asked me that too,” Jared said thoughtfully. “Who _is_ this Chad person, and why is he entrusted with presenting your sister if he’s so likely to make a hash of it?”

“Chadwick Michael Murray Campbell,” Jensen intoned with dismal relish. “He’s our first cousin, the son of Mother’s older brother Rex, and it falls to him because there just isn’t anyone else. Problem is, he likes drinking, and he has the personal responsibility of a toddler. If he embarrasses Alona then I’ll never hear the end of it; and I’ll never forgive myself, either.”

“All right,” Jared told the curtain, “leave him to me.”

At that moment, a regal fanfare of trumpets sounded over the murmuring throng, and the assembled guests hushed and turned towards the focal point of the room: the grand staircase, a broad and asymmetrical curve of dark wood with an intricately latticed balustrade. Currently, it was swathed in bolts of electric blue silk (Jensen had explained to Jared that this represented Alona’s dragon colour, not that anyone would be seeing it in person) and banners emblazoning the royal coat of arms in blue, silver and gold. 

“Speaking of,” Jensen’s voice was loud in Jared’s mind over the sudden silence, “that’s the announcement for Alona to come down; you’d better get over there!”

Alona herself appeared at the top of the staircase, wearing a simple but elegant white dress with a netted veil of tiny white and blue flowers over her hair. She looked stunning, Jared had to admit, and he was almost sorry that he wasn’t going to join the throng of eager young suitors who had been jostling with one another in semi friendly rivalry all afternoon. Standing beside the princess, her hand in the crook of his elbow, was a tall and handsome blond who looked every inch the dashing young prince, even if he wasn’t one. With the way half the guests had confused Jared with Jensen, he thought the other half now probably confused him with Chad; all because nobody actually knew what the crown prince looked like as an adult.

Jared set down his champagne glass and began to make his way with resolute care across the packed ballroom. As he threaded his way through the crowd, he heard the announcement of Alona’s name, rank and coming of age, and glanced up to see her start to descend, head held high and face wreathed in smiles.

He had just reached the foot of the stairs (his height, determination and the fact of his having circulated among nearly every member of the crowd all helping him to push through) when it happened. It all occurred too quickly to make sense of at the time, although Alona later filled everyone in at great and indignant length. 

There was the soft rasp of tearing fabric as Chad trod on the trailing train of her formal gown; the princess gave a quiet exclamation and jerked forcefully at her partner’s arm to get him to take notice; Chad, apparently forgetting where he was, who he was with, and what he was doing, shoved back; and Alona stumbled, tripped on the hem of her dress, and hurtled forwards, her mouth forming an O of shock as her mental scream echoed in the minds of at least three people in the room.


	15. Jared to the Rescue

Jared’s reflexes kicked in while his stunned brain was still trying to process what was happening, and he leapt forwards in time to break Alona’s fall, so that she pitched against his chest with a breath jarring collision as the crowd around them gasped and cheered. 

She didn’t have too far to fall, since they had descended most of the staircase already, but it could still have been nasty, and Jared could feel her heart hammering against his breastbone before he lowered her gently to the floor. She had flung her arms around him reflexively and clung to him still, as she got her bearings; and, as he realised with bemusement, hurled mental abuse on the relatively private wavelength of the dragons’ mind-speech. It wavered in and out of focus in his head like a badly tuned radio, her imprecations peppered with bursts of static, but he heard enough to understand. 

Alona went from ripping into Chad: _“Clumsy great drunken oaf who should save everyone future trouble and just put his big foot in his mouth and swallow it!”_ to Jensen: _“This wouldn’t have happened if you could just have manned up for once in your life and taken your rightful place!”_ to both of them in the same strangled thought: _“How could you both do this to me, I have never been so let down in my entire life, you’ve ruined everything!”_ and suddenly Jared, who was reeling a little from the onslaught, realised that not all the emotional fury boiling in his head was coming from the princess.

Jensen’s reaction to that last sally came flooding over him like a tidal wave, a suffocating, icy shock of hurt, remorse and despair. As soon as it swamped him it ebbed away, and as he shook his head to try and clear his thoughts, he sensed that it kept on receding; as though the prince himself were getting further away, and at a good rate of speed.

“Alona,” he grasped the princess gently by her upper arms and shook her very slightly. “Alona, you’re alright; but I have to go after Jensen. I’m sorry, but he needs me!”

She stared up at him, shocked and angry, her eyes snapping like storm clouds. _“He_ needs you?” she hissed, “What about me?! Oh no, you’re not going to run off and leave me with this… this buffoon, are you? I’ll be a laughing stock! Jared, you can’t!” Her last words came out suspiciously like a wail and her eyes glimmered with tears as the clouds threatened to break.

Jared was beside himself wondering what to do; he had to find Jensen, but he couldn’t just abandon his sister either. Chad was no help at all, stammering apologies and fumbling with the torn train of her dress, trying uselessly to fix it until she gave a little screech of vexation and slapped at his hand, still not letting go of Jared with the other. At this point, Providence stepped up to lend a hand, in the form of one of the suitors who had all stood around, transfixed and appalled by the swiftly unfolding events.

“Ma’am, Sir; I mean your Highnesses,” he said smoothly, with the twang of the oil rich Republic to the south of Jared’s homeland. “If Prince Jared has something more important to be doing than attending to your distress, might I offer my assistance? A glass of champagne to help steady your nerves, or if you’d like me to, a punch to the nose for the idiot who tripped you?”

His lazy sarcasm and the mocking tilt to his smile as he turned it on Jared were completely lost upon the prince, as he grabbed gratefully at this opportunity.

“Yes, thank you, here; please, look after her, so kind of you,” Jared rambled, as he gently detached the princess’ clutching fingers and turned her around, presenting her hand to the dark haired newcomer. _“Handing me off like a sack of potatoes!”_ he caught Alona’s astonished thought. 

Jared lost no time in striding off through the crowd towards the curtained door into the gardens, but as he turned away he caught a very feminine giggle and her softly spoken admission: “I don’t think you should hit my cousin, even though he richly deserves it, because that will just make everyone stare for longer. Could we - you said something about fetching me a drink?”

And Jared’s conscience cleared with the knowledge that he had left her in capable hands. Now he just had to find her brother, who to Jared’s mind was the one who really needed consoling. The prince’s hurt and confusion still licked at him like wavelets from a retreating tide, stinging like salt water against a graze and guiding him as unerringly as a compass. In any case, he knew exactly where to look, and made his way unhesitatingly to the fountain memorial in the rose garden.

He found Jensen curled in a pitiful heap at the foot of the marble basin, below his mother’s statue. Desolation rolled off him in viscous waves like clinging tar, making Jared’s temples throb. He didn’t hesitate, but went straight to the miserable dragon and sat down beside him, cross legged on the gravel. 

“Hey,” Jared said softly, and laid his hand on the prince’s shoulder, as tentatively as he had done that first night when they met. “It’s not that bad; she’s fine, she just had a shock, and a near disaster on her big night. She’ll get over it; she knows it’s not your fault really.”

A large green eye, glimmering with unshed tears, rolled up to look at him. “She told me…” Jensen made a noise suspiciously like a sniffle, and buried his nose under a foreleg. “Before the party, weeks ago; she was begging me to escort her, and she said if anything happened, she wouldn’t speak to me for a month.” He laughed suddenly, a mental retort that sounded brittle and a little hysterical. “Guess at least she can’t yell at me any more, when she remembers!”

“Silver linings, huh?” Jared grinned, and stroked the silken scales along Jensen’s neck. They shivered slightly under his touch, but Jensen didn’t pull away. “Look,” Jared went on, “I’d bet against my brother that she’ll come round sooner than that, but even if she doesn’t, you’ll still have me to talk to. If I’m at least a halfway decent substitute for your sister..?”

Jensen gave a double sob, both vocal and mental, and whipped his long neck around, diving his head into Jared’s lap. He laid along Jared’s leg and pressed the side of his face against his stomach, and the gesture was so like one of his dogs when it wanted to be petted, Jared acted purely on instinct. He cradled the dragon’s head in his hands, stroking the hard lines of his horns and eye ridges and the softer flesh beneath his chin.

“Woah, hey, it’s okay Jen,” he soothed, “I get it; seems like I’m the only one who understands you, huh? All those people, all those expectations, they won’t let you alone, won’t let you be yourself. If I could turn into a dragon, I’d probably do it all the time, too. Look, I know you’re beating yourself up for being too stubborn to change for Alona, but don’t be too hard on yourself. I know they haven’t made it easy for you, and you weren’t to know this would happen.”

Jensen’s head shifted, nuzzling into Jared’s ribs, and he rumbled; something between a sigh and a purr. “That’s not actually… I mean, I don’t think I’m stubborn,” he said forlornly. “Anyway it’s not deliberate. I would have changed for her if I could, Jay; she’s my sister, and I love her, and I wish I could be there for her, but…”

Jared continued to stroke and caress the heavy, horned head that pushed into his side as though trying to burrow through his clothes and skin, craving closeness.

“But you can’t?” he guessed, aching with sympathy for his friend. “You can’t change in front of other people, is that the problem? All those strangers, watching you?”

Jensen made a strangled noise, half laugh, half another sob. “I can’t change at all,” he wailed. “I haven’t been able to since… since the accident!”

“You mean…” Jared’s mind whirled, but his hands never let up their soothing caress of Jensen’s scales. “You’ve been a dragon all this time? Ever since… your mother..?” He couldn’t quite bring himself to finish the question, the manner of her death too awful to put into words.

Jensen shuddered and a soft whine crept out from between his jaws, muffled in Jared’s dinner jacket. “It was the first time I changed,” his mind-voice whispered, hollow as the wind in winter. “I was only six years old, most dragons don’t… Alona was nine when she made her first transformation. But I remember… the car, tilting, as it went over the edge; that weightless feeling, same as when I close my wings, about to dive into freefall.”

Jared listened in horrified, sympathetic silence, letting his fingertips brush along Jensen’s cheeks in soothing, abstracted strokes.

“She looked at me,” Jensen went on, sounding broken and lost. “Looked right into my eyes, and she looked so sad, and so scared, but most of all, I could tell how much she loved me. And she undid my seatbelt, and she said to me ‘Change, my baby boy. Change for me Jensen, and save yourself.’ And I don’t know how I did it, it must have been instinct; I turned right there in the car, tearing out of my clothes, and it was a sports car, the top was open because it was a sunny day; and I just… I burst up into the air, and then I came down again on the top of the cliff, and there was a horrible crashing noise and…”

He gulped, and nosed frantically into Jared’s side, and Jared made soothing shushing sounds and held his head, stroking his forehead until he calmed.

“And they found me there later,” Jensen went on, “huddled into the bushes on the top of the cliff, still a dragon, because… I don’t know if it was shock, or it just never occurred to me because I was so young, or maybe it was a comfort thing, knowing I was safe this way. And they didn’t bother me about it for some time, because they knew I was grieving, but then… at first, it was just that I didn’t want to change back, you know? I liked being a dragon, mom had _told_ me to change, and I just didn’t see any reason to be human again, especially when I started teaching myself how to fly.”

Jared nodded understandingly; under the same circumstances, he wasn’t sure he would have wanted to change either. As a child he had loved hearing stories about dragons, especially the tales his mother had sometimes told which (come to think of it) had probably been more legend than fairytale. He couldn’t understand why anyone with the power to turn into such a magnificent creature would suppress it like some sort of guilty addiction, the way Jeffrey and Alona seemed to.

“Alona was happy enough with me when she was little,” Jensen continued. “We played together, and it didn’t stop me from learning or eating or listening to music or any of the things I like doing. But… as I grew older, Father started trying to get me to change. At first he was gentle, just trying to encourage me, but gradually he… Well, you’ve seen how he is. I think he takes it personally, as though I’m doing it to spite him or something. And I’m not, really I’m not! I just - I don’t know how to change back, I think I’m stuck! And they won’t let me be king if I’m stuck as a dragon, so I’m letting him down, and now I’ve let Alona down, and you’re the first person I’ve ever met who doesn’t look at me as though I’m a disappointment.”


	16. On Dragon Temperament

Jared was quiet for some moments, thinking hard. It was a lot to take in, but actually, it explained a great deal. He had been wondering when Jensen would relax enough to change around him, assuming that he just avoided strangers, and trying hard not to take it personally that he hadn’t yet met the criteria for inclusion. But he hadn’t wanted to hope that Jensen simply refused to stop being a dragon for anyone, including his own family, because that seemed a mean spirited sort of thing to want. Now he knew that he couldn’t help any of it, and felt a surge of warmth and protectiveness towards him. 

“Of course you’re not a disappointment to me,” he said. “I couldn’t care less if you were a man or a dragon, it’s not like it stops us talking; and your flying stunts are really cool. But one thing I don’t get; your family has ruled this kingdom for centuries, and everyone has always known you were dragons, so why is it so important you be human to be king?”

Jensen sighed and lowered his head, resting it along Jared’s thigh, and with no indication he should stop, Jared carried on petting.

“Honestly?” Jensen replied, “I’m not sure it is; but times change, and modern rule is all about diplomacy and serving the people, where in times past the king’s word was absolute law, and he held his country by show of force. It didn’t matter back then, it was an advantage, for people to be a little scared of us - to be in awe. Any rumblings of dissent could be taken care of… well, pretty simply. Not many people, even knights, were ready to stand up to something that could bite their ass and then burn it while they ran away!”

Jared sniggered and felt the flash of answering humour from Jensen, like light piercing through the dark clouds of his dejection.

“These days, you couldn’t get away with that kind of behaviour,” Jensen went on, “not that I’d want to, of course! But everyone’s been so caught up with the fear of scaring people, and making sure we never did anything to make the populace second-guess their leaders; in other words, to prevent a revolution; that they started to frown on any kind of dragon activity, until now it’s seen as less of a gift and more of an embarrassing quirk. It’s okay for children, but adults shouldn’t do it, because it’s showing off and inappropriate.”

“The servants seem used to you, at any rate,” Jared pointed out. “Doesn’t that indicate dragons aren’t as terrifying as your family believes?” 

The waves of despair rolling off his friend had lessened as they changed the subject from his mother’s death and his traumatic early transformation, so now Jared let his hands still and left them resting lightly on the dragon’s back.

“The servants _are_ part dragon,” Jensen snorted. “It’s always been a family tradition to hire staff from the margins of our own bloodline. Helps to retain loyalty,” his tone was sardonic, “and it’s also been damned handy for them understanding me all these years, since I can’t actually speak to anyone aloud.”

“Actually they should be safer than anyone,” Jared mused, “even if they are around dragons all the time; because you can’t go breathing fire when you live in a wooden castle! Why is that, anyhow? Seems like a fatal design flaw to me…”

Jensen snorted, and nudged him hard between the ribs. “You don’t have to stop doing that, you know; it’s nice,” he grumbled. Jared grinned and applied himself to scratching behind the dragon’s ears, which made his eyes close and his nostrils quiver with bliss. A deep, rumbling purr started up in his chest, which luckily did nothing to impede his mind-voice.

“That’s exactly the point,” he explained. “Living in a fire hazard, we’ve always had to be careful growing up. Dragons tend to have hot tempers - I don’t know why I missed out there, but you’ve met Alona! - but we learn fast how to keep them in check. And I guess it’s some kind of signal to the public: we might be big, fiery predators but we can’t be that bad, because we haven’t burned our own house down after all these years!”

“I noticed you’re not taking any chances though,” Jared said teasingly, tickling Jensen under the chin. “I gave up counting the fire extinguishers while I was walking around the place!”

“Well like I said, you’ve met Alona…” Jensen replied, and they both burst out laughing.

“You feeling better now?” Jared checked, though he didn’t need an answer; he could tell how much Jensen’s mood had lightened from how much the pressure behind his own temples had eased.

“I am; much,” Jensen replied, and he stretched, extending his neck, legs and tail until his muscles were quivering. Then he flipped over onto his back and laid his head back down on Jared’s leg. “Now you can do my tummy,” he demanded regally.

Jared laughed again. “Hey, I’m not one of your family servants, remember!” he said with mock indignation and tried to tickle Jensen under the armpits, but dragons, it seemed, weren’t terribly ticklish. Maybe it had something to do with all the scales. “Just because I can’t turn into a dragon, even with my dragon blood, don’t forget I’m a prince, too.”

“Not forgetting,” Jensen said, sounding a little smug. “You think I’d ask just anyone to give me belly rubs? I’d never hear the end of it. But you’ve started something now, and if you stop, I’ll only keep hounding you until I get my way, so-”

“Fine, fine,” Jared chuckled, resuming his attentions, “but don’t think I’m going to make a habit of this. You’re clearly insatiable, you’re worse than my dogs! And at least they pay their way with tricks!”

“I can do tricks,” Jensen murmured, thoroughly satisfied. “I did some before, remember? I’ll give you another show, any time you like. Well, long as it’s daylight. Actually, we should go to one of the lakes; I can do more there, because if I misjudge the distance I only get wet, not smashed to pieces.”

Jared almost responded with ‘It’s a date,’ but caught himself just in time. It was nothing more than a figure of speech, but with Jensen upside down, practically writhing in his lap, he felt suddenly extremely self-conscious and didn’t want to say anything that could be misconstrued. Physically, Jensen was a dragon, and clearly used to acting like one; mentally, he was a person, and Jared had become strongly attached to him over the brief period of their acquaintance. If Jensen had been human, he would have said he was falling for him; hard.

“Sounds great; I’ll hold you to that,” Jared said instead, and concentrated on massaging the smaller, softer scales of his throat and chest without his touch becoming too intimate or lingering.

“Hey,” he said after a few moments of relaxed, contented silence, “did you know you’ve got a hole here? Maybe you should be careful flying over the lake after all; don’t want to get taken down like Smaug by Bard the Bowman!”

“Hmm?” Jensen craned his head over on his long, prehensile neck and peered at the spot, before flopping back with a sigh. “It’s just a missing scale,” he said, “they fall out sometimes when I knock against something and they get damaged. It’ll grow back.”

“Yeah, but in the meantime it makes you vulnerable,” Jared said, pretending to be serious. “Like this!” And he poked his finger into the slight depression made by the missing scale, wiggling it over the soft, bare skin beneath, until Jensen writhed and bucked and almost tied himself into knots from the tickling, hooting with laughter.

That sent the last of Jensen’s bad mood packing, and Jared was able to go back to the castle to rejoin the party, and check up unobtrusively on Alona; but Jensen decided to forego any more sneaking behind the scenes. He took off for his favourite meadow to stay out of the way of any wandering party goers until nightfall.

Throughout the rest of the evening, Jared was aware of a constant, low level connection, as though Jensen was still around but just on the edge of hearing. He supposed it might have something to do with the way Jensen had opened up to him, establishing a bond of trust and deepening the friendship between them. 

Wherever he was and whatever he was doing, he seemed happy enough; sound was playing softly like a backing track to his stabilised emotions. Jensen was humming to himself.


	17. Day Out at the Lake

Alona, it turned out, was so taken by the young man who had stepped up to champion her at the party that she quite forgave Jared for abandoning her; it even went a long way towards mollifying her over Jensen’s betrayal, though Chad’s name was forever mud. 

The suitor’s name was Christian Kane. He was the son of an oil baron from Texas, come over to investigate European methods of onshore extraction, and had just happened to be in the right place at the right time (and with the right amount of credentials - which was to say money - to his name) to finagle an invitation. Because, as he said with a meaningful look at Jared,

“Who wouldn’t want to drop everything for the chance to court the prettiest princess outside a fairy story - or inside one, if it comes to that?”

He was invited to stay for a couple of days following the ball, which was perfect for Jared and Jensen, because it meant they could spend time together without leaving Alona high and dry. Jared reminded Jensen of his ideas concerning a lake, and a second flying show, and so they took off one morning in a Land Ranger with tinted windows and a taciturn driver and bodyguard called Clif, who looked as rugged as a mountain troll and about as approachable. Jensen took up the whole of the backseat, curled up like a dog, and Jared rode shot-gun.

They made their way to the more secluded end of one of the many lakes which nestled at the feet of the mountains, and after hauling along a picnic hamper and blanket which he tucked between the roots of a tree by the lakeshore, Clif went back to guard the track and deter any passersby from taking this route down to the water.

“Aren’t you worried someone might see you, out over the lake?” Jared asked.

“They might,” Jensen shrugged, his folded wings rising and falling, “but it’s not like we’re a total secret. As long as they don’t get up close and personal, occasional sightings and rumours aren’t a bad thing; it keeps the idea alive in the public mind that we exist, without letting them think too hard about what that actually means. Even Father has been known to go flying in the hills, although he sneaks off so none of us can see him in his scales. I guess the idea is, if one of us ever does have a close encounter, at least it won’t cause widespread panic.”

“All right then, if you’re sure,” Jared answered. “I’ll just sit here in this handy boat for a ringside view.” Someone had left a small wooden skiff tied up among the water reeds, painted a cheerful yellow and with no signs of any damage or leaks.

Jared managed to haul the boat close enough to step in without falling into the lake, then perched himself on the sturdy wooden platform that served as a seat and let it drift back out to the end of its painter. From there he watched as Jensen soared up into the sky like a festive kite, spiralling and looping and hovering on the wind. At one point he even flew backwards. The view was spectacular, the forest-clad slopes of the mountains rising tier upon jagged tier on the opposite side of the lake to form a theatrical backdrop for the aerial display.

Jared whooped and clapped and generally made as much noise as he could in appreciation of the performance, although he knew perfectly well that Jensen was picking up far more through their mind-link than he would have from the applause, even if they’d been standing right next to each other. 

“Now for the big one,” Jensen announced, and he flew impossibly high into the sky until he was only a bright red silhouette against the blue. Then he folded his wings and plunged towards the lake, a stooping hawk as large as an eagle, and larger, and larger still… 

Jared was sure he remembered that at terminal velocity, hitting the surface of the lake would be like hitting concrete, and he suffered a brief moment of panic; but before he came anywhere close to the water, Jensen angled himself out of the dive and soared out in a flattened arc, doing a barrel roll before he spread his wings and performed a lazy series of circles, gradually drawing in towards some centre out over the lake. The whole exercise was accompanied by a jubilant mental cheer that made Jared’s head ring.

Finally Jensen straightened out and came sailing towards Jared over the water, gradually dipping lower and lower. He still had a considerable turn of speed from his earlier momentum, and was heading right for the boat like a missile… He extended his legs like the landing gear of some bizarre kind of aircraft… and suddenly, Jared realised what he was going to do.

“Oh no you don’t, don’t you dare, Jensen, I’ll be soaked..!” He cried out and put up his arms in a completely ineffectual attempt to shield himself. Jensen came down onto the surface of the lake with all four feet and planed across like a windsurfer. His claws ripped through the water, curling it up into a miniature tidal wave which surged over the prow of the boat and, as predicted, Jared.

As the water drenched Jared like the backwash from a theme park log flume ride, Jensen sailed to a majestic halt, using his wings to stand up on the surface on his hind legs. Then he brought his front feet crashing down on the side of the boat, overturning it and spilling Jared out into the reed-choked margins of the lake. Jared sat up, spluttering and spitting water weed, Jensen’s laughter ringing through his head. He sounded so pleased with himself, so completely joyous and unfettered and unrepentant, that Jared couldn’t help laughing with him.

“All right, all right,” he exclaimed, “you got me good. Man, I can’t believe you did that. And I take it back: your ancestors must have been terrifying in battle. If you’d been breathing fire when you came at me right then, I would have been out of this boat before you touched down.”

“Told you I’d put on a show,” Jensen chuckled. “But oh, man,” his mind-voice became tinged with concern, “you can swim, can’t you..?”

“It’s a little late to be wondering about that, don’t you think?” Jared retorted, and splashed Jensen as hard as he could with both hands. “But yeah, I can swim; and now I’m completely wet, I might as well join you.”

Jensen was paddling up and down in front of him like an oversized crimson swan, his wings arched gracefully to keep them out of the water.

Jared stood up, making a face as his shoes squelched in the mud of the lake bottom (probably ruined, but it was a negligible price to pay to see Jensen so free and happy) and stripped off his waterlogged clothes until he was completely naked, leaving them in a puddle on the seat of the boat. Then he called out “That’s it, I’m coming to get you back now!” and took a shallow dive out into the lake, powering towards the dragon with muscular strokes.

Jensen, the big cheater, jumped into the air, laughing and taunting him by dipping and hovering just out of reach, until Jared gave up on the chase and settled into enjoying his swim instead. The water was cool but not uncomfortably cold, and Jensen entertained him by continuing to perform smaller tricks, occasionally plunging into the water like a diving seabird and then bursting back out in a shower of water droplets that shone around him in a rainbow halo in the sunlight.


	18. An Unexpected Development

They swam and chased one another, laughing and playing in the lake for an hour or more, and Jared couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun. Eventually they grew hungry and made their way back to shore, and the waiting hamper. Jared took a moment to retrieve his sodden clothes from the little boat, wringing them out as much as he could and hanging them over the branches of nearby trees where he hoped the sun would dry them at least a little.

“Sorry about your clothes,” Jensen said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “I forgot you’d be needing them again when you got out; it’s been so long since I wore clothes myself.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jared told him, digging into the contents of the hamper and distributing the sandwiches and other provisions between them. There was even beer, which technically he was too young to drink back home; but of course this was Europe, the rules were different here! - and anyway, it wasn’t as though he’d never tasted alcohol before. He’d drunk champagne at Alona’s ball, and Gabriel had made sure he knew his bourbon from his scotch.

“How exactly does a dragon drink a bottle of beer?” he asked, puzzled, and Jensen was only too happy to demonstrate.

“Like this!” he replied, and lowered his jaws over the neck of the bottle Jared had just opened for him. He gripped it between his teeth, winding his long tongue around it for good measure, then threw back his head, tipping the bottle up and swallowing the entire contents in one long, extensive gulp. Then he smacked his jaws, sighed, and finished with a belch which erupted in a small, greenish flame, doubling Jared over in hilarity.

“Oops, pardon me!” Jensen apologised, then set about demolishing his portion of the picnic.

They were quiet for a while as they ate, and Jared felt perfectly comfortable sitting on a picnic blanket in nothing but his birthday suit; after all, Jensen never had a stitch on him in all the time Jared had known him, and the sun was perfect, strong enough to keep him warm but not so hot that it burned his bare skin.

“I… I’ve really enjoyed today,” Jensen mentioned almost shyly, echoing Jared’s own thoughts.

Jared glanced up and smiled, hastily swallowing his mouthful. “Yeah, me too,” he nodded to underscore the words. “I’d like - I mean, if it’s okay with your dad, of course - but maybe I could stay a bit longer?”

Jensen ducked his head down, nosing at the crumbs on the picnic blanket. “I’d like that too,” he answered softly. “Will your family be okay with it? You’ve been gone a while already, and… You haven’t exactly done what they sent you for.”

Jared scrunched his nose up. “Well, technically, it’s not as though I was under orders: marry the princess or else! It was just an idea, really; an opportunity. They worry about me, want me married off so I don’t turn out like Gabe, probably.” He laughed shortly. “Actually I think they were more concerned with me making a good impression, whatever I did. Uphold the family reputation and represent America, all that. Mom pretty much just told me to come and have a good time.”

Thinking of his mother, and his last moments with her as they made their farewells, suddenly put Jared in mind of her parting gift to him.

“Oh shit!” he swore, and jumped to his feet, running to the skiff.

“What’s the matter?” Jensen asked, anxiety prickling across the mental bond, but Jared exclaimed with relief as he found what he was looking for in the bottom of the boat.

“It’s my pendant,” he explained, “I took it off to keep it safe when I got undressed, and I must have knocked it down when I picked up my clothes. Mom gave it to me as a good luck charm for my trip, I’d hate to lose it. Look,” and he sat down again to show it to Jensen. “It’s my family crest, see: the Hellhound, howling at the moon. Sort of an inside joke - my ancestors believed in doing things for yourself and having a good time regardless of the rules, but we’ve settled down a bit since then.” He grinned.

“Not all of you,” Jensen joked, “not from what you’ve told me about Gabriel!”

“No, well,” Jared chuckled, “I think between them, Gabe and Michael balance things out so the rest of us can just be normal.”

_You’ll never be just normal to me._ Jared blinked as he caught the thought, not directed at him like most of Jensen’s speech but more of an echo, a suggestion of words giving shape to the swirl of accompanying emotion. He wasn’t sure he was supposed to have heard it at all, the belief strengthened when Jensen acted as though he hadn’t said anything.

The dragon nosed at the locket and asked, “What’s inside it? Family photo, or your dogs?”

Jared laughed, a little shakily. “Uh, no, not a photo actually; I don’t know what it is. I’d forgotten about it to be honest, but…”

With trembling hands he opened the metal case, several concepts colliding and coming together like completing a jigsaw puzzle, with an enlightening sort of flash like fireworks proclaiming ‘ta da!’. The small red scale-like object in the locket. The feel of Jensen’s scales under his fingers, warm, like leather wrapped in silk. The hole in Jensen’s breast, where a scale had come loose right over his heart. And the hole in Jared’s own heart, not a wound, but a gap or a slot: waiting patiently for the right person to come along and fill it.

“That’s a dragon scale,” Jensen said quietly into Jared’s stunned silence.

“I… I know,” Jared murmured, hoarsely. “I think… I think it might be…”

“Pretty sure it’s mine,” Jensen replied, levelly and just as softly.

They stared at one another.

“Is your mother a witch?” Jensen asked, at the exact same moment Jared was saying, “I knew Mom cast some kind of spell!”

They both laughed, and Jared leaned forward to place the locket against Jensen’s chest, comparing the size of the scale as well as he could through the obstacle of the silver disc.

“It fits,” he whispered, and bent his head forward; Jensen leaned in at the same time, and their foreheads touched. They stayed like that for several heartbeats, pressed together, just taking the time to absorb everything.

“Would you…” Jensen’s mind-voice was as diffident as Jared had ever heard it, almost plaintive. “Could you… love a dragon? One like me, I mean. Even if I never change?”

“I already love you, Jen,” Jared said with utter conviction. “I just didn’t realise it before, because I thought… I was still searching, when I’d already found you. You slid into my heart so quickly and so neatly, I didn’t even notice it happening.”

Jensen pulled back a little to look him in the eyes, his green gaze earnest and beseeching. Jared took his muzzle between his hands, holding the dragon’s head steady, and pressed a lingering kiss to the centre of his forehead.

“What about you,” he asked, “could you love someone like me, who can’t even fly? You deserve to be with another dragon, Jen. Someone you can take up into the air with you to be a partner for those tricky battle manoeuvres-”

“Stop,” Jensen commanded in a mental whisper. “You’re already my flight partner, Jay. I love performing for you, you don’t have to be up there with me to take part; it’s enough that you understand and enjoy it as much as I do. You’d have been good enough for Alona; you’re much, much more than good enough for me.”

Jared smiled, and kissed him again, on his scaly forehead and then again on the pointed tip of his nose. “I think we can be good for each other,” he said, “and I’m looking forward to finding out how much.”

Jensen blinked, several times rapidly, and caught his breath on a little indrawn gasp. He sat backwards suddenly, breaking Jared’s grasp, and his muzzle contorted as though he were about to sneeze. He drew into himself, hunching like an offended cat, and Jared was just about to ask him what was wrong when he shivered all over, and _shimmered_ , and the red of his scales dissolved away…

And sitting in front of Jared on the picnic blanket was a man, a human male as naked as he was, opening familiar green, astonished eyes over a nose dusted adorably with freckles and the prettiest Cupid’s bow of a mouth Jared had ever seen.


	19. Princes in Love

“Oh… my God,” Jared stammered. “You changed! You turned human; for me?”

Jensen’s lips quirked in a lopsided smile and he shrugged lightly. “I guess I did,” he replied, and his voice sounded just the way it always had in Jared’s head; whiskey on the rocks with a dash of honeyed sweetness.

“You didn’t have to!” Jared protested mildly. “I accepted you just the way you were.”

“I know,” Jensen replied, and he reached out and took Jared’s hands in his own. “That’s why I could, I think; because you didn’t have any expectations. I just wanted to; and for the first time, it was only about what I wanted, not anybody else.”

“That,” said Jared admiringly, “is just about the most dedicated stubbornness I ever heard of. Well; after twenty two years as a dragon, now that I’ve helped you to become human, what’s the first thing you’d like to do with it?”

“This,” Jensen answered promptly, and leaning forward again, he claimed Jared’s mouth in a passionate kiss.

When he’d surfaced, slightly breathless and feeling as though his insides had evaporated into something lighter than air, Jared admitted “That’s certainly one thing we couldn’t have done while you were a dragon. But I suppose it had its compensations,” he teased. “Belly rubs, for instance. I remember you enjoying those!”

“Who says I have to be a dragon to enjoy you rubbing my… belly?” Jensen asked, deadpan, with the merest suggestive hitch between the words. His eyes gleamed and darkened with amusement and desire. “Although if you’re offering, I’d prefer it if you went a bit lower…”

Jared’s own eyes widened. “Jensen Campbell _Morgan!”_ he exclaimed, then laughed delightedly. “You’re really not a bit shy, are you,” he stated. “If your family only knew..!”

“Not shy around you, at any rate,” Jensen grinned back, then leaned in for another kiss.

They spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the new depths of their relationship, and Jensen’s new and extremely attractive form. Eventually, as the sun dipped below the treetops and the air started to turn cool on their skin, they agreed reluctantly that they ought to be getting back to the castle.

“Will you turn back into a dragon, or go as you are?” Jared asked, hesitantly. He had no issue with Jensen wanting to change, or even with spending the majority of his time as a dragon in future, but he held a small, secret worry that it might be difficult for him to change again, once he was back among the gentle but persistent prejudice of his family. 

Jensen seemed to agree, if not share his precise concerns. “I think I’ll hold onto this form for a little while,” he said, smiling and squeezing Jared’s hand. “Father will be overjoyed, and I imagine it will go a long way towards sealing his approval. Not that I could see him turning you away, he really likes you; but you might actually find it difficult to leave, once he realises you’re the reason for me being like this.”

“Your father has nothing to do with why I’d find it difficult to leave,” Jared assured him, with enough heated possession in his tone to make Jensen blush. “In fact he’d better not try to get rid of me now, or there’ll be a diplomatic incident!”

“If we’re spotted in public like this, there’ll be a diplomatic incident all right,” Jensen quipped. “Plus if Clif drops into a dead faint, I’m not sure even the two of us would be able to lift him into the car - assuming you can even drive, because I can’t?”

“I can drive,” Jared answered, suppressing a chuckle, “but in deference to poor Clif’s sensibilities we should cover up at least a little. It’s a good thing I was wearing two shirts; think you can manage to tie them into some semblance of decency, front and back?”

He grimaced as he pulled his pants down from the tree; the sun had done a good job, but they weren’t perfectly dry, besides being as creased as a used napkin. Still, better to turn up at the castle in damp clothes than none at all. He wriggled into them, foregoing his underwear which he shoved into his pocket; he left the ruined shoes under the tree. 

He smirked when he looked around to see Jensen fumbling with the shirts; clearly, his time as a dragon had not done much to help his manual dexterity.

“Here, let me help you with those,” Jared offered, and Jensen stood still in a resigned sort of way while Jared assembled the two layers into a sort of double loin-cloth. “There; that should hold,” he said when he was done, “but you’d better not run anywhere or it’s not just my shirts will be flapping in the breeze! I’ll carry the hamper, so you can grab on if anything starts to come loose.”

They made their way back to the car, both of them wincing and stumbling as their feet encountered stones in the grass; Jared was unused to going barefoot and Jensen had benefited from a protective layer of scales for most of his life. When they finally made it though, Clif’s expression was worth the discomfort of the trek. 

_“That’s remarkable,”_ Jensen sent to Jared, soundlessly from one mind to the other. _“I don’t think I’ve seen the man make such a range of facial movements in the whole time I’ve known him. I think I’d better pay him a hefty bonus at Christmas.”_

All Clif said was, “It’s good to see your Highness looking himself. Thank you, sir,” he nodded gravely to Jared; “I’ll take that.” 

As he lifted the picnic basket into the trunk of the car, Jared wondered whether that rather weighted acknowledgement had been simply for the material handover, or whether Clif had guessed that Jared had something to do with his master’s transformation. His pondering was cut short when Jensen projected the emotional equivalent of an eye roll and said telepathically, _“Looking myself. Because the big red flying lizard I’ve been strolling around in for the past two decades isn’t me? See, it’s already started. It’ll all just go downhill from here.”_

Jared caught and squeezed Jensen’s hand to comfort him. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, “I’m here; and I’ll always be here, whenever you’ve had enough of them.”

Jensen squeezed back gratefully, and then they got into the car - both together on the backseat this time - and Clif drove them home.

As they pulled up into the castle forecourt, Jared saw that his personal assistant was standing there waiting, holding what looked like a pile of towels. As Clif went to open the car door, the younger man waved him aside and stepped up to the opening, handing in what turned out to be a pair of bathrobes.

“Adam!” Jensen exclaimed, (so _that_ was his name!) “That’s pretty damned impressive, even for you.”

Adam smiled slightly and made a small, formal bow. “I may not have had much practice as your valet,” he said to Jensen with the easy manner of a trusted servant, “but you won’t find me falling short now that I’m finally required.”

“Adam’s been with me since he signed on at the castle,” Jensen explained in an aside to Jared. “I don’t give him nearly enough to do, so I thought he might like waiting on a proper prince for a change.”

Jared elbowed him, none too gently, in the ribs. “You are a proper prince,” he hissed. “More than me, because you’re first in line to your throne!” Turning to address Adam, he said, “Thanks for the robes! How did you know we’d be needing them? I didn’t hear Clif phone ahead?”

“He didn’t, sir,” Adam replied, with another bow. “It is my job to anticipate your requirements. As such, you will both find baths drawn ready in your rooms, and your outfits laid out for dinner. Your Highness, I had to take the liberty of guessing your measurements, so my abject apologies if it doesn’t quite fit; but I’m sure we can make some reasonable adjustments.”

As they walked together into the castle, looking as if they had just come from the swimming pool in the fluffy, deep blue robes, Jared leaned close to Jensen and whispered, “Does he know what happened? You said the staff have dragon blood but… they can’t actually read _minds_ can they?”

“Only enough to facilitate our jobs, sir,” Adam answered smoothly from right behind them, making Jared squeak in surprise and Jensen chuckle.

_“I wouldn’t think too hard about it if I were you,”_ Jensen told him, mind to mind. _“I’ve given up wondering how it works; it’s certainly nothing I’ve ever managed, but then again, I’m full dragon. Maybe it’s a knack that’ll come to you in time?”_

Jared considered answering aloud, but thought better of it, with Adam right there. He wasn’t sure if the man could hear Jensen’s mind speech, but he had certainly heard Jared’s voice just now. He tried thinking instead, projecting his words firmly towards Jensen.

_“Oh yes, and I suppose you’re hoping I’ll anticipate you wanting belly rubs,”_ he thought, putting a little extra emphasis on the ‘belly’. 

Laughter rumbled in Jensen’s voice and mind, but from behind them, Adam responded warmly, “That’s very good sir! But if you’ll take my advice, you need to soften your thoughts a little. There’s a tendency to broadcast, when first learning how to do it.”

Jared fled to his bedroom, his cheeks flaming; but Jensen made him feel a little better shortly, when he made mental contact to say, _“He’s right you know; that was really impressive for a first attempt. I think you may be a natural at this. Just try and keep your thought-speech PG for a while, until you’ve got the hang of it; we don’t want to give Father any reason to change his mind!”_


	20. Wedding Bells

Jared was dressed and ready for dinner faster than Jensen, owing to his experience with all the vexatious peculiarities of clothing, such as buttons and cufflinks, not to mention tying a tie - which he did for Jensen, when he appeared at his door to Jared’s knock, looking a little rumpled and frazzled and adorably helpless with his shirt not even buttoned all the way.

“See?” he grumbled, “Knew there was a reason for being a dragon; I was right all along. Can’t believe I fell for the advertising.”

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Jared soothed, as he adjusted the knot of the tie and smoothed back Jensen’s hair. “We’ll practice together; you can wrestle clothes while I try to guide you with my mind without the whole castle thinking I’ve gone insane.”

Jensen chuckled and turned what Jared had quickly discovered to be the world’s most dazzling and heart-stopping smile on him. “Okay,” he admitted, “you are a really good advertisement. You should be paid royalties from someone for it.”

“I think I’ve got my commission right here,” Jared replied softly, and leaned to peck a kiss on Jensen’s lips. He loved him just as much, and thought he was equally handsome, whether he was human or a dragon; but he was never going to become tired of kisses, and intended to steal as many as he could, as often as Jensen had lips to kiss.

They made their way down to the dining room together hand in hand, but paused at the door while Jensen ruefully disengaged and sent to Jared, _“Just while we gauge his reactions; think I’ll be enough of a shock for him, for the time being.”_

Whether anyone had informed the king in advance or not, it was hard to tell; when they entered the room, he stood still with the strangest expression on his face, clearly struggling to remain regal and stoic in the face of his emotions. But his eyes locked on his son, from where they barely strayed throughout the entire meal to follow.

Alona gave vent to a much more enthusiastic reaction. As soon as Jensen walked through the door, her eyes widened and she shrieked, both vocally and mentally, before rushing to her brother and throwing her arms around him, crushing him in her embrace. 

“Jensen!” she cried, “You did it; oh my goodness, just look at you! You’re human! And you look incredible!” Then she flung herself against Jared and hugged him just as hard. “Thank you!” she said, her voice muffled in his chest, but the words resonated in his head so that he couldn’t mistake them. “You’re so good for him; he really likes you, you know!”

Jared had to bite back a laugh at this ingenuous statement, then he caught sight of their newest dinner guest since the party, who was looking a little strained. He grinned over her head at Christian in what he hoped was a placatory manner, raising his hands in a slight shrug before the princess finally released him and went back to her seat.

Now Jeffrey stepped forward, holding out his hand, which Jensen took; the king clasped his son’s hand in a bruising grip for long moments, then hauled him close and hugged him as fiercely as Alona, but with a great deal more strength.

“I knew you could do it,” he murmured over Jensen’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, son.” He turned his head, looking Jared in the eye, and nodded once emphatically, his eyes squeezing briefly closed as though to blink back tears. “And Jared, I know you had a part to play in this, for which I can never thank you enough. My son’s place in my heart and this family was never in question, but now his place on the throne is secured as well. Today I am a very happy man.”

“Does the throne have room for another prince?” Jensen asked, as his father drew back, patting him on the shoulder and still reluctant to release his hand. “Because I’d like Jared to share it with me, if your thanks can stretch that far.” He looked composed, but resolute; not quite sure of his answer, but ready to throw it all away in a heartbeat if necessary, because - Jared could sense it with complete certainty - his love meant far more to Jensen than ruling in his father’s footsteps.

Jeffrey stepped back and threw his arms wide, his face splitting into a beaming smile. “I said I could never thank him enough, didn’t I?” he cried. “It seems we have a great deal to celebrate!”

And the butler came in to deliver champagne as if on cue, in the percipient way of the castle staff.

Alona dug her elbow into her brother’s side as he sat down at the table next to her. “Are you two _engaged_ already?” she hissed. “That was my debutante ball we just held, you know; how can you have beaten me to it in just a few days?”

“Well, I guess Jared is just a little quicker off the mark than some people,” Jensen drawled, winking at Christian. “And besides, I am older than you, and the heir; I couldn’t let you steal a march on me, now could I?”

“Not much of a march though, I’m hoping,” Christian answered, making Alona blush and look down at the table, smiling softly. “Congratulations to you both,” the young man went on, “I can see now why Jared was so quick to overlook your sister’s charms, and I have to say, I’ll add my everlasting gratitude to your father’s for that.” 

He nodded to Jared and they shared an almost identical smile of proprietary smugness which was lost upon nobody in the room.

“So I take it you’re still speaking to me after I let Chad disgrace you at your party?” Jensen asked Alona, with a sly glance in Christian’s direction. It was clear that events had taken a very positive turn since that unfortunate accident.

“I suppose I have to,” Alona snarked back, “since there’s so much for us all to be happy about; but don’t think that means I’ve forgiven you entirely! Maybe you can take Chad as your groomsman at your wedding to make it up to me.”

Jensen made a mock face of horrified dismay, and everyone around the table fell about laughing.

~*O*~ ~*O*~ ~*O*~ ~*O*~ ~*O*~ ~*O*~ ~*O*~ ~*O*~ ~*O*~ ~*O*~ ~*O*~ ~*O*~ ~*O*~ ~*O*~

Jared called home to tell them the news of his engagement, and his mother fell to pieces over the phone, overcome with delight that her ‘darling wee boy’ had found his true love at last. It didn’t seem to bother her one bit that he was marrying a prince instead of a princess and wouldn’t be presenting her with any grandchildren; it was his happiness that counted, as she had always maintained.

He had to ‘forcefully encourage’ Jensen (or nag him, as he put it) to try changing back into a dragon, to make sure he was able to transition back and forth smoothly. Jensen was clearly worried that he would get stuck again, and they would have to call off the wedding; Jared insisted there was no way that would happen, because “Even if you can’t change back, I’ll walk down the aisle with you hand on wing, and if it has to be a private family affair then so be it. You’re not getting out of this with an anxiety attack, you know!”

Jared’s unswerving loyalty persuaded him to try in the end; that, and his suggestion that they repeat their day at the lake, but this time with better preparation. That excursion went beautifully, with Jensen transforming at the last moment while dive bombing the lake, so that he dove into the water as a man and came up beside Jared grinning from ear to ear and projecting an aura of extreme self-satisfaction.

It appeared that since their first trip, rumours of a sighting had flown around the local community, so that a few people had been staking out the lake with cameras and Jensen’s second aerial display was caught on film. Luckily, the news of their impending nuptials put a favourable cast on the revelation, and the media and populace went wild over their romantic dragon prince. 

Newspapers competed over ‘making a splash’ and ‘diving headfirst into love’ and similar excited headlines; social media jumped on ‘dragon prince comes out twice in one swoop’ and the two princes found themselves the bewildered subjects of an international meme, to Gabriel’s everlasting delight. The whole nation went into production overdrive on wedding memorabilia so teeming with dragons that they put Wales to shame; and turned more than a few of the world’s eyes toward the tiny British country, wondering just what they had been hiding in plain sight all along.

Jared and Jensen were married in a private chapel on the castle grounds, with just their families in attendance. After twenty years of hiding from the public eye, Jensen was not about to let his personal vows be the catalyst for breaking down the walls of secrecy. As well as his parents, all of Jared’s brothers flew over to witness the ceremony, including Raphael, who had been granted leave from the army for such a momentous occasion. Michael, who had been grumbling somewhat about the lack of royal heirs, cheered up considerably when he was introduced to Alona and Christian, and started to look forward to being an eventual uncle. 

Just before the ceremony, Jensen asked Jared for the pendant he still wore around his neck. Adam brought him a tiny jeweller’s hammer, with as much gravity as though he bore a crown, and shushing Jared’s bewildered protests, Jensen prised out the little crystal enclosure and smashed it, releasing the tiny scale within.

He held it up to Jared, shimmering like a metallic flame, and said, “We have a tradition, when we marry, borrowed and adapted from our Asian cousins. The spouse of a dragon wears one of their scales, to signify that they are becoming one with the dragon. It pretty much symbolises everything a wedding ring would stand for, but it’s also meant to bring luck and long life to the wearer.” He drew a deep breath. “The custom fell out of use in recent times, and my mother never wore my father’s scale. I know he’s blamed himself for her death ever since, though Alona and I never did, and I don’t think it’s any more than a superstition and token of blessing. Still. I - I would like you to wear mine, if you don’t mind?”

Jared looked into the deep, earnest gaze of his husband-to-be and reached for his hands.

“Of course I don’t mind,” he said softly, “I would be honoured. I’ve worn it since the day I met you, after all, and who knows that it didn’t help to pull us together?”

Smiling fit to dazzle the sun, Jensen took a small pot of some sweet smelling paste (sandalwood, he informed Jared across their thoughts) and used it to hold the scale where he pressed it to the centre of his forehead. When Jared’s mother saw it, she wept with pride and clutched her hands to her breast, murmuring “Och, my bonny wee moose, grown up at last and bringing us back into the heart of the family!”

Jensen conceded to holding a party after the wedding, because good publicity was everything these days, even for royalty. Everyone who was anyone was crammed into the great hall along with select members of the press and the entire household staff.

The grand staircase was festooned with roses in pink and cream, gathered from the gardens around the queen’s fountain, and they filled the great hall with summer scent. Tinkling silver chains dripped like icicles from the bannister and fractured the light until the air was filled with dancing rainbows. The walls were hung with entwined Js in solid gold, blooming with tiny crystal hearts.

The princes emerged above all this finery, stepping out onto the balcony overlooking the room to a crescendo of mingled cheers and trumpets. They descended the stairs hand in hand, in matching, impeccable suits, while their assembled relations remained on the balcony. Among them was Chad, dressed entirely in white and sporting a pair of feathery Cupid wings, as penance for the trouble he had caused Alona. He had a special role to play, but he tried to stay out of sight of the press cameras as much as possible.

As they stepped off the staircase, the two princes faced the gathered crowd and Jensen announced, “I am proud to stand before you today, as dragon, man and husband. I present to you his Highness Jared Tristan Connell-Sheppard, heir to the Hellhound Throne of California, and the love of my life. Long may our two houses be united.”

Applause and the flash of cameras met this short speech, then Jared turned to them all and said, “I have never been happier than I am today, standing here with my husband, Crown Prince Jensen Ross Campbell-Morgan. Just a few short weeks ago, I didn’t even know that dragons existed; now I’m married to one, as this scale on my forehead attests. I left my own country in search of my soulmate; and in him, my heart has discovered wings. Long may we fly together.”

He turned to his husband and they embraced and kissed one another as the crowd erupted in applause, and from the balcony overhead, Chad upturned a bucket of glittering confetti to shower down upon their heads in blessing.

Luckily, when he dropped the bucket, it fell harmlessly to the parquet floor, making a clattering din but just missing striking and hurting anyone. Jared and Jensen barely paused in their kissing, until they broke apart, shaking with silent laughter, as Alona’s strident mind-voice thundered through the castle: _“Chad! That’s it, you are hereby banned from attending any more important functions!”_

_“Welcome to my family,”_ Jensen murmured on a much more private wavelength to his new husband, and

“Welcome to mine,” Jared whispered back, rolling his eyes as Gabriel, up on the balcony, could be heard clapping Chad on the back and inviting him to join his most exclusive club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this please consider leaving some small token of appreciation - kudos and comments make it all worthwhile! =^.^=
> 
> Also please don't forget to visit [the artist's site](https://dwimpala21.livejournal.com/7949.html) to leave feedback for her work. She did a couple more pieces for the story which I couldn't feature here, including a short animation of the final wedding scene, with music!


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